Prodigy
by Leaper
Summary: AU: Dave Karofsky is a typical frat boy and nothing more — certainly not worth anyone's time. That's what Kurt Hummel thought, until one piece of paper reveals a side to Dave that Kurt never dreamed of, and started a quest that would change both their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Yeah, yeah, I should be working on "Worlds Colliding" or my ghost hunter idea (that's another story, literally), but I got this idea, and I love this trope so much. Even though I'm not a shipper, per se, Kurt just seems to fit into the other half of the trope the best, so Kurtofsky it is.**

 **Not sure what the rate of update on this is going to be (this entire part was written all at once in one evening), but I have a pretty good idea of where it's going — if it sucks, the answer is "nowhere," but let's see.**

 **And I've never seen _Good Will Hunting_ ; I didn't even think about it 'til it was pointed out to me.**

"Ugh. I hate numbers. I wish numbers didn't exist. I wish anyone who's ever used numbers would just die." Kurt banged his forehead against the table, rattling silverware around him.

"If you hate your math class so much," Blaine said mildly as he finished his bowl of chicken noodle soup, "why'd you sign up for it?"

" _Because_ it was the only elective that didn't conflict with one of my core classes and didn't start at some godawful hour of the morning."

Rachel nodded sympathetically. Kurt had met Rachel and Blaine in his Theatre 101 class during his first day at OSU, and the three had become fast friends, despite the somewhat... self absorbed and melodramatic tendencies of the two that were plain to Kurt from just a couple of months of knowing them. But then, they all shared common interests (not to mention the common major), and they weren't _entirely_ bad people; God knew he needed all the friends he could get, what with Finn being busy with his fraternity and sports.

Besides, he had to admit that he could be a little self absorbed and melodramatic himself at times. So these were his people.

"How badly are you doing?" Rachel asked between sips of bottled water.

"Well, I'm not _failing_ , but it's still my worst class by far. I didn't think it'd be this difficult. This is freshman level stuff, for God's sake!"

"How were you at math in high school?"

"Okay? I guess? But I went to a public school, so..."

Rachel and Blaine nodded sagely.

"Well," the former said primly, "if you're eventually going to go to NYADA like we are, not to mention get a scholarship, you need to keep your grades up. There's nothing else for it."

"I know," Kurt groaned.

"Why not get a tutor?" Blaine suggested. "Or join a study group?"

"I thought about that, but it's not like I have a lot of free time as it is." Kurt rubbed his forehead, the remaining strands of spaghetti on the plate in front of him long cold. "I guess I should've listened to my dad when he said he thought I was trying to do too much freshman year."

"Oh, no such thing," Rachel said brightly, and of course, she could say that; Kurt had _no_ idea how she did everything she did without the use of anything illegal or physically dangerous. But that, apparently, was just how she was. Lucky bitch.

"The worst part is, Professor Schuester doesn't even explain half the things he's doing, because he assumes everyone gets it at the rate he's going. And they do. Except me." Kurt sighed, infusing it with as much of that precious precious melodrama as he could. "I wish I'd known what it'd be like before the drop deadline passed..."

"Well, if I think of something, I'll let you know," Blaine said with a shrug, "but I think you're worrying over nothing. Just keep up with the rest of your classes, and you'll be able to absorb one bad grade."

"Maybe, but it's stress that I don't need right now." He glanced at his phone and rocketed to his feet. "Crap! I have to go! I'm meeting Finn at his frat house."

"So when are we going to get to meet this mysterious stepbrother of yours?" Rachel asked.

"Maybe another time. I'll catch you two later." With a quick arm-hug around Blaine's shoulders and a kiss on Rachel's cheek, Kurt strode quickly out of the dining hall and into the cool, leaf-strewn November evening. He pulled his coat tightly around him as a breeze whipped up his trailing scarf. Despite his problems and pressure, though, college wasn't all bad — not at all. He was finding a lot of himself here, just as he'd hoped, and with the size and diversity of the student body, his high school problems with his peers were a thing of the past.

Mostly.

It was part of that "mostly" that caused Kurt's strides to slow down as he approached the Beta Theta Pi fraternity house. Kurt felt a little silly; it wasn't as if he'd been beaten up by _him_ , or even threatened — that alone put the guy head and shoulders above anyone Kurt knew in high school. But just something about the man... rubbed him the wrong way.

Ah, well, for Finn's sake, he'd endure. And maybe _he_ wouldn't be in...

His rapid staccato knocks quickly brought someone to the door. Fortunately, it was the man he was looking for. Finn Hudson brightened as the two met eyes.

"Hey, Kurt! Right on time!"

"Of course I am, Finn. Ready to go?"

"Almost. I've got an English paper due tomorrow, and I'm, like, one page away from being done. Mind hanging out while I finish? I'm kind of in the groove right now."

Kurt smiled. Considering Finn's occasional academic problems in high school, he seemed to be flourishing in college — more than he or anyone else could've imagined. Maybe it was the fraternity; if so, he could tolerate its existence. "Of course."

"Great, thanks!" Finn stepped aside to let Kurt in. "I'll be, like, five minutes, tops. Just wait here." As he disappeared briskly up the back stairs, the usual Sunday night post-party smells met Kurt's nose: pizza, body odor, and a hint of stale beer. There was the pounding of muffled bass coming from upstairs, but otherwise, the lobby seemed to be deserted, and surprisingly clean.

Kurt pulled up a nearby chair (after first checking it for any mysterious stains) and took his phone out of his pocket. Maybe he'd get through his wait for Finn without seeing...

"Yo, fancypants."

 _Him._ Kurt groaned inwardly.

Dave Karofsky swaggered from one of the other rooms, wearing a wrinkled white dress shirt, black pants, and a loose, askew tie. Finn and Dave had become the best of friends during the pledging process, which was unfortunate, because the man was just... primitive. He hit practically every frat boy stereotype that Kurt despised, from his doughy build to his backward baseball cap to his drinking to his dirty jokes to his major ("Phys ed. Duh."). Again, it wasn't like Dave had _done_ or _said_ anything worse than tacky in Kurt's presence — mildly offensive, at worst — but there was just _something_ about him that was... was...

"Are you wearing makeup or something? Like blush or some shit?"

 _Infuriating_.

"It was cold outside," Kurt said with a defensiveness that made him seethe inside. But that was just the kind of reaction Dave Karofsky roused in him. "What about you?" Kurt's eyes roved Dave's outfit. "I'm surprised you actually own clothes other than ratty t-shirts and sweatpants."

Dave shrugged. "Eh, had a thing this afternoon. Had to get all dressed up for it."

"I'm surprised you made it," Kurt said wryly, "considering you had a party last night. What, didn't you drink?"

Dave's brow furrowed in a parody of umbrage. "You shitting me? Of course I drank. I drank a whole fucking lot. But I can handle my booze," he added with chest puffed up in pride.

"Bully for you."

"You talk weird, don't you, fancypants?"

"My name is _Kurt_. And I like to think I speak _well_ , thank you very much."

"Well, lah-dee-dah," Dave said with a snicker. "You sure you and Finn are related?"

"For the last time, we're _step_ brothers. You do know what that means, right? No blood relation?"

"'Course I do. I'm not _stupid_."

"I'm sure."

Dave's brow furrowed, genuinely this time. He opened his mouth to say something when they were interrupted by heavy, plodding footfalls down the stairs that could only belong to one person. Finn appeared, duffel bag in hand. "Hey, thanks for waiting... Yo, Dave! How'd the thing go?" The two fist-bumped; Kurt was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Eh, boring. But you gotta do what you gotta do, right? Especially with the way my grades are going."

"Tell me about it. I'm going to RPAC with Kurt. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Seriously? The gym? What's _he_ do at the gym?" Dave cast a doubtful, amused look at Kurt that set his teeth on edge.

"Hey, don't make fun of him, man! He wants to keep in shape, and I'm helping. Tonight's basketball."

Dave smirked. "Him? Play basketball? Against _you_?"

"It's for exercise, not competition," Kurt snapped, unable to hold back any longer. "Just because I'm built the way I am, you assume—"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Dave said, raising his hands in surrender, but keeping that goddamn smirk. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Catch you later, okay?" Finn interrupted with exquisite timing, slapping Dave on the shoulder as he passed. Kurt could feel Dave's eyes on the back of his neck as the two stepped out into the chill winds of autumn.

"Seriously, Finn..."

"He's a cool guy," Finn said immediately, retreading an old, worn conversational path for them.

"Would it kill him to be a little nicer to me? Especially if you two are such good buddies?"

"He's like that with everyone. Just ignore him; he doesn't mean anything by it."

"I hope not," Kurt grumbled. The two walked in silence for a while; Kurt tried to let the soft crunching of leaves under his feet carry away his stress and irritation.

He failed, but at least he tried.

* * *

"Oh, my God," Kurt gasped as he staggered off the basketball court. "I've never sweated so much in my life."

"So not basketball next time?" Finn said with a chuckle, wiping sweat off his own brow.

"Not unless you can ratchet down the pace a little. Do you still have that ridiculous phobia towards aerobics?"

"It's just not... not something _dudes_ do a lot, y'know?"

"Lord, heterosexual masculinity is _so_ fragile. Didn't I teach you anything in the years we've lived together?"

"Hey," Finn said with a shrug and a grin, "I'm being myself. Don't you always say that's the most important thing to be?"

"Well, you could stand to be a _better_ self, you know."

Finn laughed. "Yeah, maybe. Hey, I'm going to go for a swim. Wanna come?"

"Are you kidding? You ran me to the edge of exhaustion. I'm just going to shower and go home. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good luck on your paper."

"Yeah, thanks! See you then." The two parted, with Kurt immediately going to the locker room. Fortunately, it was mostly empty, and the few students there were too absorbed in their own lives to pay him the least mind. Perfect.

He hated showering at the gym (just the thought of the fungus and other... stuff... that inevitably clung to every surface of a public shower made him shudder), but there was no way he was going to put on any of his carefully chosen and cleaned outfit while he was still sweaty. Besides, the hot water was soothing as it rained down on him; he found himself humming "The Lullaby of Broadway" before he remembered he was technically in public and stopped.

Freshly washed and feeling much better already, he emerged from the steam to find the locker room now entirely empty. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he quickly dried off and got dressed. He'd just stepped into his loafers when he heard the door creak open. _Just in time_. He started gathering his belongings for the walk back to the dorm when...

"Hey, fancypants! _Fancy_ meeting you here!"

 _Oh, Lord, not again._

He looked up. Unfortunately, yes, that was Dave Karofsky strolling in, backpack slung over his shoulder, now dressed more casually and normally in a t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt, and sweatpants.

"How'd the _game_ with Finn go?"

"Just fine," Kurt said stiffly, his fingers accelerating their work.

"Cool," Dave said in a somewhat distracted and entirely insincere tone. He stripped off his sweatshirt, the t-shirt underneath just barely letting a sliver of hairy belly peek through before it lowered and spared Kurt any further threat of blindness. "You should lift weights like me," he said as he drew a water bottle out of his backpack, casting a look at Kurt that he could only call judgmental. "You look like you could use it."

As Dave took out his water bottle, it jerked a piece of paper out of his backpack, which fluttered to the floor underneath the bench bolted between the two. Dave didn't seem to notice; Kurt started to say something, but stopped himself.

 _Screw him._

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt said coldly as Dave took off his sweatpants; fortunately for all involved, he had a pair of shorts on underneath.

"Welp, gotta go lift. Coach is gonna have my ass if I slack." Dave shoved the backpack and his sweats into a locker and snapped a lock onto it. "Later, fancypants."

"Stop calling me that! I have a name, you know!" But Dave had already breezed out without another word, or even a sign that he'd paid the slightest attention.

Growling under his breath like a dog, Kurt closed his bag. His foot nudged against the paper Dave dropped underneath the bench. Curious, he reached down and picked it up.

He'd expected class notes — or maybe some crude and anatomically correct doodles — but what he saw instead were numbers. Lines of numbers, filling the entire paper in rows and tables, interspersed with a dizzying array of symbols that stirred vague memories of Prof. Schuester's class.

So maybe they _were_ class notes? But this looked way too advanced to be from any freshman level course. Maybe it was someone else's notes that he had for some reason? No, it _did_ look like Dave's handwriting, if those silly signs he'd seen on the door to his room at the frat house was any indication.

Shrugging to himself, he slipped it into his bag. If it really was important, he could give it to Finn to return to Dave.

Not that the gorilla deserved a favor, but he was a good guy that way.

* * *

Prof. Schuester's next class went as well as all the previous had. A peek over the shoulders of his fellow classmates at their version of the homework offered some relief, but just as much trepidation. Did it take any of them nearly as long as it had taken him? Did they have anywhere near the difficulty he had? Maybe he should've tried to challenge himself more in high school. But apart from basic measurements and arithmetic, what need did the stage have of math?

Prof. Schuester, of course, went at his usual lightning pace; it was all Kurt could do to keep up, when he wasn't glancing at his peers and seething inside at their understanding nodding. God, how did it come so easy for them? What was wrong with _him_ that it didn't for him?

The answer, of course, as his father and stepmother would've readily told him, was absolutely nothing. Just as most people didn't have his finely honed sense of style, he didn't have the knack for numbers that they did. He couldn't be on the same level of everyone at everything; that simply wasn't the way the world worked.

If only a grade didn't depend on it, he could take some comfort in that.

After Prof. Schuester dismissed class for the day, Kurt hung around until the others left, then approached his teacher. Maybe he could ask his advice on how to keep up...

"Ah, hello... Kurt, right?"

Kurt barely felt any offense; it was a big class and a big lecture hall, after all. Besides, he had the impression that, as with him, this class was just a routine necessity for Prof. Schuester as well.

"Right."

"What can I do for you? Are you still having trouble with the basic concepts?"

 _Basic concepts_... Kurt knew that Prof. Schuester didn't mean to sound condescending or insulting, but somehow he found both in the words. How the hell could he answer that question with a yes?

"Kurt...?" The man was frowning now; whoops, how long had he been silent, lost in his own thoughts and mild humiliation?

"Yes...? I mean, ah..." His mind flung out, looking for some way to extricate himself from this minor social faux pas. Then he had it. "I was curious about something..." He took Dave's paper out of his bag. "I, uh... found this, and I was wondering what it was. I thought you might know."

"Let me see... Hm, yes, it is mathematics..." _Obviously_ , Kurt thought. "It looks like... Wait..." Prof. Schuester rested the paper onto the desk, his face hovering over it, his lips moving silently with words Kurt couldn't hear or understand. "Wait just a minute..." Schuester sat back in his chair, flipping open his notebook.

"Professor...?" Kurt began. But the man was heedless; he began feverishly scribbling in the notebook, looking back and forth between it and the paper.

And he was mumbling, obviously mostly to himself. "But that... No, I see... That makes no sense... But wait...! Wait...! That means if we just take that derivative and...!" Schuester stood so quickly that his chair almost fell over, scooting across the linoleum floor with a groan. Kurt himself literally jumped back. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God..." Schuester looked up at Kurt, his eyes wide, his lip trembling. "Where's the rest of it?"

Kurt took a second to find his voice. "The rest of what?"

"The rest of _this_!" was the almost screamed reply. Schuester waved his hands at the paper in front of him. " _This_! There has to be more! Where is it?!"

"I... I don't know..." Kurt stammered. But he did know... sort of. His mind was whirling; none of this was making any _sense_...

"So you didn't write this?" Kurt shook his head dumbly. "Who did? Please, tell me!" Schuester's voice took on a desperate tone. "Tell me you know who did this!"

"I... I..." The confusion was intermingling with fright, mostly because Schuester looked _crazy_ , a wrong word away from grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him for the information he wanted. "I do... But..." But... His mind provided a disturbingly vivid scene: Dave Karofsky — huge burly Dave Karofsky — punching him in the face for stealing from him and giving his name to obviously insane professors. "I... I think I should talk to him first." He didn't even think about the words; if he had, he wouldn't have said them. But say them he did.

"Kurt..." Prof. Schuester swallowed, wiping at his suddenly sweaty brow with his palm. "If you bring me the person who wrote this, I will give you an A in this class." Kurt gaped. "No, wait, I will _always_ give you an A. You could enter the PhD program and not learn a goddamn thing, but you bring me the person who wrote this, as long as I'm your teacher, you'll always get an A."

"I..." Kurt had to get a handle on his tempest of thoughts before he could form coherent words. "What's so important about that paper...?"

"This..." Prof. Schuester poked a finger onto the paper, his breathing still heavy. "... is a _revolution_. Even if the rest of it doesn't work out, this kind of brilliance... It comes along once in a generation, Kurt, if _ever_."

 _No no no no. This makes absolutely no sense, no sense at all. Dave Karofsky isn't "brilliant." He's barely_ sentient _._ "Y-you got all that from just one piece of paper."

"I got it from the first five _lines_ of the paper. The rest just made it blindingly obvious." Prof. Schuester fixed Kurt with an intense, rather terrifying stare. "I have to meet this person, Kurt. I _must_. This kind of potential has to be nurtured. Whoever wrote this is the next great mathematician, I guarantee it. And I meant my own guarantee: an A from me, forever, for as long as you're at this university. Just give me the person who wrote this, and it's yours."

Kurt mutely looked down at the paper on the desk between them. Suddenly, it didn't look like a piece of paper anymore. It looked like...

A gold mine.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Kurt ten minutes to extricate himself from Prof. Schuester's presence, and only by making a lot of promises that he wasn't at all sure he was going to be able to keep. But he had to make them — had to get out of that room, had to _think_.

He was actually literally nauseous. He'd been getting hungry all through the last fifteen minutes of class, and now he didn't know if he'd ever eat anything ever again.

Dave Karofsky...

Genius mathematician...

Dave Karofsky...

Genius mathematician...

Those two concepts did _not_ go together. It was like orange juice and toothpaste.

Absolutely not. It was impossible. Obviously, Dave had stolen that paper from some shy, quiet math nerd...

And rewrote it all himself in his own handwriting for no explicable reason...

Dave Karofsky...

Genius mathematician...

When Kurt finally stumbled back to his dorm room, his roommate wasn't there. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not; Sam always made for a good distraction, either by his goofy good humor or by the careless way he showed off while changing shirts. But having him there would've roused inevitable concerned questions about Kurt's current mood, questions Kurt didn't want to, and perhaps couldn't, answer.

Dave Karofsky...

Genius—

 _Stop it_ _, already!_

Groaning and rubbing his temples, Kurt reclined on his bed against his propped-up pillows. Going around in circles like this wasn't going to do him any good. If he was going to break out of this mental hell, he'd actually have to _do_ something about it. Not only did he need to _know_ , one way or the other, he also had a feeling that the rest of the term with Schuester was going to be hell unless he brought some kind of answer he'd be satisfied with.

Obviously, the direct approach was right out. If Dave Karofsky (genius math— stop it!) really was some kind of _wunderkind_ , it was clear that he was going to great lengths to hide it for whatever reason. Confronting him, especially openly, would most likely result in someone being in traction — whether himself or Dave depended on whether Finn heard any screams.

So he had to be devious. Luckily for him, he _was_ devious.

The key was getting into the Beta Theta house and doing some reconnoitering without being noticed. Problem was, how was he going to get inside without looking suspicious or having someone, including Finn, hovering over him constantly?

When he realized that both of those issues had the same potential solution, he cackled. Yes, he actually cackled, out loud. Okay, so maybe it was for the best that Sam was out.

* * *

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "It's... loud in there."

"Yes, it is," Kurt said with bottomless patience as he gently shoved her towards the Beta Theta house and the party within.

"The Greek system is so... so _primitive_ ," Rachel griped. "A waste of resources that could be better spent in academics or the arts. I know I said I wanted to meet your stepbrother, but why did we have to come on a Saturday night? Couldn't we have stopped by during a weekday, when there wasn't a party going on?"

"Because I have a hard enough time seeing him during the week as it is. If I had to coordinate around your schedule too, it'd never happen."

"Couldn't we have at least waited for a time when Blaine was also free?"

"Look, the point of this is to get this done," Kurt lied. "So let's just go in, meet Finn, and you can leave if you're not having a good time, all right?"

Rachel sighed, pouting. "Oh, all right. For you."

"That's my girl," he said, patting her on the back. Of course, if things went as he expected and hoped, _she'd_ be thanking _him_ one of these days.

Then again, he was grateful for her presence; this would be his first time at a frat party, so infamous in pop culture, and he had no illusions that Finn would be able to protect him — he'd barely be able to keep _himself_ out of trouble. It helped, though, that he wasn't there to have a good time.

He was on a mission.

A blast of warm air, infused with the smells of alcohol and body odor, hit them square in the face as the door opened. As one, both their noses wrinkled. The pulsing of hip-hop and waves of drunken babbling were the only things they could hear.

"Are you—?" Rachel had to lean in more to make herself heard. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes!" Kurt said, gripping Rachel's hand. "Come on, Finn can't be hard to find in this place."

Indeed, he wasn't, considering he was a head taller than anyone else in the fraternity; Kurt immediately spotted him in a back corner, talking with some of his frat brothers. For their part, the revelers paid the newcomers absolutely no attention, being wrapped up in their own alcohol or dancing or make out sessions, so Kurt and Rachel were able to squeeze through the crowd, even as their bodies and ears were constantly buffeted.

Finn brightened as he saw Kurt approached; he got up and separated from the small pack. "Hey, Kurt!" he yelled. "You made it!"

"I told you I would, didn't I? Finn, this is my friend Rachel! Rachel, my stepbrother Finn."

Rachel gawped at Finn.

Finn gawped at Rachel.

Kurt smirked. Indeed, his instincts were once again right on the money.

"Hi," Rachel said breathily.

"Hi," Finn said breathily.

"I..."

"I... Uh..."

"I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk," Kurt said gleefully, but neither heard him; they were too busy staring at each other. "Have fun!" Kurt easily slipped away from them and melted into the jostling crowd.

Kurt had deliberately dressed down for the occasion; his task was one that depended on being noticed as little as possible. He took a baseball cap borrowed from Sam from the pocket of his dull brown jacket and slipped it over his head. He looked around for the only other person he was concerned with; it took a couple of minutes of wending his way through the crowd to find him.

Dave was playing Beer Pong in the dining room. His head was snapped back as he downed a Solo cup of beer. Funny game, Kurt thought, when even losing was winning. As soon as the cup was empty, Dave threw it aside, and let out an almighty belch that Kurt could hear, maybe even _feel_ , through the noise and the music. The spectators and Dave's opponent (a muscled guy with a mohawk) cheered raucously.

And this was supposed to be the man who had a first rate mathematical mind. The nausea (which Kurt concluded most likely came from some sense of cognitive dissonance) flared again.

He backed his way out of the room and slipped up the stairs, dodging dozing drunks and romantic couples. The hall was relatively empty, the bass causing ripples in the floorboards that Kurt could feel under his feet. There were a couple of people there, but both were passed out; the snores coming from one reminded Kurt of nothing so much as a water buffalo. It only took a quick glance to satisfy himself that they would not be witnesses to what he was about to do.

There was Finn's room, third door on the right. The one directly across, he recalled, was Dave's room. And indeed it was, the signage declared. Nothing on the doorknob... Now here was the final obstacle. If Dave's roommate was inside, the mission had to be aborted. If, on the other hand, the room was empty...

Kurt knocked gently on the door, then leaned against it, ears perked. There was only silence — apart from the bash downstairs and the snoring in the hall, of course. He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. Gingerly, pulse beating in his ears, he turned the doorknob and cracked it open. No light spilled out — good sign. After a moment of no reaction within, he poked his head inside. There was just enough light from the hall to see that both beds were empty.

Quickly, he slid inside, shutting the door behind him. Now enrobed in darkness, he had to grope to find the light switch. He saw a room he expected of a couple of freshman frat boys: a disaster area of papers, empty soda cans, and dirty laundry. It took a little observation to figure out which side was Dave's; he recalled Finn saying that he was a hockey player, and there was a hockey poster above the left hand wall. And there was a care package on the desk on the left addressed to "David Karofsky"... Good enough.

He had to work quickly; who knew if or when when Dave or his roommate would decide to crash out for the night, or worse, bring up a date. As he gently picked his way through the papers on Dave's desk, he suddenly found himself wishing he'd thought to bring a pair of rubber gloves.

The papers were all normal, average, freshman-level course notes, but it did impart one important piece of information: the handwriting on them indeed matched that of the math paper. Dave's course schedule was pinned to a small cork board over the desk; there wasn't a single math class on it. Odd.

Kurt stepped back for a moment, taking in a deep breath. This was taking too long. He had to think. Dave was apparently hiding his talent for numbers even more deeply than he'd thought, which meant that the "real" stuff wouldn't be out in the open.

So where would Dave stash something he'd be that embarrassed over?

Honestly, he didn't understand it. The first thing Kurt always was was himself, even (and perhaps especially) when it was painful to do so. Granted, he wasn't born having learned that lesson, but he learned it, and he stuck to it, come hell or high water. He was _proud_ of himself, proud of his skills and accomplishments and differences. The idea of not being so was... almost sad.

But there was no further time to muse; who knew what kind of time limit he was working under? There weren't many places in the room to hide anything... Why not try the obvious first?

Kurt gingerly lifted the mattress, mentally praying that he wouldn't be disturbing bedbugs or something similarly disgusting. He found no insects, but he was rewarded nonetheless: a notebook and a folder. "Success!" he hissed to himself joyfully.

A quick flip through the notebook revealed pages upon pages of numbers and graphs and Greek letters and matrices, all in the same now-familiar handwriting. The folder held loose leaf paper, much like the one Kurt had picked up, that contained even more.

There was no denying it anymore. The truth slapped him in the face like a wet trout; it was almost dizzying.

A wavering, drunken laugh in the hallway outside snapped him out of his shock and back to reality. He took out of his pocket the fateful piece of paper (having already photocopied it, of course — Prof. Schuester said it looked like "a meditation into the Hodge conjecture," whatever that meant) and slipped it into the folder. Then he returned it and the notebook to their hiding place, carefully angling both to the way he found them to the best of his memory. He switched off the lights and opened the door a crack, peeking out into the hall. It looked pretty much the same as when he'd entered, so he sidled out and let the door click shut behind him. Nobody paid him the least attention.

Flush with success, Kurt was practically skipping down the stairs. Now, at least, his suspicions were confirmed, even if they were still frankly unbelievable.

The question that remained: what now?

This was the man Prof. Schuester wanted — that much was certain. What would, or could, Kurt tell him? He felt a little uncomfortable, meddling in someone else's life; if Dave Karofsky didn't want anyone to know he liked math, who was he to force him out into the open? At the same time, if he really were a genius on the level Prof. Schuester thought, how much good could he do? How much could he contribute to the sum total of human knowledge? Would Dave forever hide his work under a shroud of secrecy? The thought of that much precious light being lost to the world was obscene to him.

And Kurt had to admit that yes, the idea of the eternal Schuester A was tempting — very tempting.

Contradictory impulses and instincts warred in his brain as he reached the bottom of the stairs, a war that was instantly halted by one word. "Fancypants?!" Kurt spun around; yes, it was indeed Dave Karofsky behind him, staring at him in this comic, wide eyed, open mouthed mix of astonishment and delight. It didn't occur to him then to wonder how Dave had recognized him from behind; it would later, though. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"I came to see Finn," he said calmly. "And introduce him to a friend of mine." The best part was, it was the truth... or part of it, anyway.

"You're not going, are you? C'mon, I've always wanted to see what you're like when you're not so uptight! Stay! Have a drink!"

For once, it didn't even occur to Kurt to be insulted, because here was the perfect opportunity to probe a little. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

Dave slapped him on the back, hard, roaring with laughter. "Great! C'mon, I'll get you something." He led Kurt to one of the quieter corners of the room, mostly because there was no room for people there with the tables covered in bottles and cans and cups. "Whaddya want?"

"Diet Coke."

Dave's nose wrinkled. "Seriously? This is a fucking _party_. How are you supposed to cut loose with a fucking Diet Coke? That's just _sad_."

"You asked me what I wanted, and that's what I want," Kurt said primly. "And you'll find I'm quite immune to peer pressure—"

"At least have a _regular_ Coke. Live a little!"

"Oh... Fine." Kurt watched carefully, to make sure Dave didn't decide to introduce a splash of rum all on his own. But no, he poured nothing but cola with a surprisingly even hand, for one whose clothes and breath reeked so much of booze.

"Here. Your _Coke_." He said the last word in a mocking singsong.

"Thank you," Kurt said evenly, taking the drink. The ice was biting against his lip as he drank.

"This your first college party?"

Kurt was startled to realize that there wasn't an ounce of judgment to the question, so he found himself answering. "Yes," he said, even as his mind twisted this way and that, trying to figure out how much information he could get from Dave without tipping his hand.

"Whaddya think?"

"It's..." One of Dave's frat brothers passed by, whooping as he did a dance that sort of made him look like a rubber chicken. "... Interesting."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? This is what college is all about, man!"

"Oh, really?" _Ah, a natural opening!_ "I thought it was about learning and preparing yourself for the adult world."

"And adults don't drink and have fun?" Dave asked with a smirk, and okay, he had a bit of a point. Just a bit. Kurt watched as Dave got a bottle of beer out of a cooler.

"I mean, we're all here to learn, right? I for one work hard for A's."

Dave snorted. "Why stress out over fucking grades? I'm all C's, and that's fine with me."

The introduction of this little fact, if fact it was, struck Kurt as a little unnatural, as if it'd been forced into the conversation. His excitement increased, but his voice remained calm and steady. "I'm sure your parents are happy with that," he said dryly.

"Eh, they're just happy I'm in college and out of the house. Me graduating would just be a bonus." There was a shadow to Dave's tone, one he was sure would've skated right by his frat brother peers, but that Kurt's ears, honed by years of theatrical exposure, easily picked up on. The emotions evoked by this realization were... mixed at best.

"You said you were a phys ed major, right?"

"Yep." Dave took a swig of beer from his bottle.

"That doesn't sound very academically rigorous."

Dave's nose wrinkled. "You talk like a fucking professor, dude." Again, those mixed emotions; it was surprising how much knowing one little truth completely changed how he reacted listening to what came out of Dave Karofsky's mouth. "Anyway, Introduction to Drawing is a lot harder than you think," he continued with a grin. "Besides, it's not like I have a lotta time to study anyway. Got hockey practice, frat activities..."

"Like parties..."

Dave winked and raised his bottle towards Kurt. "You know it." The bottle remained hovering in the air. Kurt sighed and "clinked" his cup against it. "There you go! Loosen up, man!" He took another long drink.

"Don't you ever feel like challenging yourself? Opening up your mind, applying yourself to something useful? English, science, math... Anything?" It was pressing a little hard, Kurt knew, but it sounded enough like something he'd say normally that he hoped it wouldn't raise too many alarm bells.

As it was, Dave twitched at the mention of math. Yes, indeed, he twitched, and it wasn't some kind of alcohol induced _delirium tremens_ , either. But he covered it very well, very smoothly, as if by long practice. "You joking?" he said, sounding perfectly natural. "Why would I? I've got it made, dude! I mean, look around you! This is my life! Isn't this shit _banging_?"

"I suppose."

"Yo, Dave!" someone's voice called out from across the room. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh, hey, gotta run. Nice talkin' with ya, fancypants. Maybe you should come to our next one, learn how to relax."

"I'll... take your invitation under advisement."

Dave laughed. "Man, you're a hoot, like my Grandpa Murray would say. Don't ever change." With one last slap to Kurt's back (one that almost took him off his feet), he lurched into the crowd, disappearing into the gyrating horde.

Well, it looked like that's all he'd get out of Dave tonight. Kurt looked around; no sign of Finn or Rachel, which was probably a good thing. Eh, leave the kids alone to get to know each other. He left the party without anyone giving him a second look — or a first, for that matter, which was fortunate.

He had a lot to think about now, after all. A lot to plan. A lot to scheme.

* * *

After the frat party, Kurt figured he'd be away from drunken revelry for at least a couple of weeks. He was counting on it, so he could figure out just how the hell to draw Dave Karofsky out of this bewildering frat boy caveman act he had going on.

But no, life wasn't going to be so simple. Blaine begged, _begged_ Kurt to come with him to a 21 and under event being held at a downtown Columbus gay bar.

"I'd feel so... weird going alone, and I heard it's really cool and I'd love to meet a hot guy..."

Kurt grimaced. It'd been almost a week, and he was still no closer to solving his dilemma. Professor Schuester was getting visibly antsier, giving him this _eye_ from his lectern that brought more pressure on him than he'd expected he'd feel. Kurt really did not want to have to report a teacher to the administration for stalking; that would be a headache he just didn't need.

So he had to think, and how could he think in the middle of music and dancing and sweaty bodies? "I don't know, I've got a lot on my mind..."

" _Please_?" Blaine turned on these wide, puppy dog eyes. "You can set any kind of reasonable time limit you want, and I'll honor it. I just want to have some company. C'mon, Kurt, live a little! This is college!"

The echoes of Dave were unpleasant in their unexpectedness. Still, if he said no, Blaine would just pout for the next month, and maybe a couple of hours not wracking his brains over this would allow him to start fresh tomorrow... "Okay." Blaine nearly bounced up and down on his heels in joy. "But not all night. If you go off with someone, tell me so I don't have to wait around for you."

"I promise you, you won't regret this!" As it turned out, Blaine was entirely correct.

The two took the bus down to the bar, called The Watering Hole (whose double entendre Kurt felt entirely confident was 100% deliberate). As soon as they stepped inside, incoherently lit by flashing strobes and filled with young men and women about their age, Blaine's mouth was almost literally watering. Kurt rolled his eyes behind his friend's back. It wasn't like he didn't know what it was like to want... companionship. He still did. But it just wasn't a top priority for him at the moment. He figured he'd have plenty of time, when he was well established in his profession and had the critics and audiences bowing at his feet. Besides, his dad always said those kinds of things tended to just sort of... happen, and Kurt was still at that point in his life where he was content to let it do so.

"I'm gonna mingle," Blaine said eagerly.

"I'll check out the karaoke." But Kurt had barely completed the sentence when Blaine vanished into the crowd.

The karaoke book was... okay. Average. It had its share of predicable standbys and old favorites and obligatory nods to the fact that this was indeed a gay bar. Kurt made a mental note of a couple of possibilities and wandered to the bar. "Diet Coke," he said to the bartender.

Just the act of ordering reminded him of his dilemma, of Dave. Dammit. If he was here to get his mind off his main issues for a little while, he was completely and utterly failing. He sighed, picking up the glass set in front of him and taking a sip. Was relaxing completely out of the question now? Was he wasting his time trying to let go of these nagging thoughts?

It wasn't like he shied away from a challenge, any kind of challenge. And belting out show tunes on a stage, no matter how much he enjoyed doing so, wasn't going to help him find an answer. It wasn't like a solution was just going to drop into his lap out of nowhere...

"Ohmigod, you're so adorable." That was Blaine's voice behind him, and it was getting louder. "You _have_ to meet my friend, he's gonna love you! Kurt, Kurt! This is..."

Kurt turned, and his jaw dropped.

"... Dave?"


	3. Chapter 3

Even through the multicolored lights playing over his face, it was apparent to Kurt how pale Dave was, if the open mouth and wide eyes weren't enough of a clue. Blaine looked back and forth between the two in puzzlement. "Do you... Do you two know each other?"

That's when Dave turned and bolted out of the bar. Kurt didn't command his legs to follow; they just did.

"Kurt?"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Blaine!" he shouted behind his back. "Do not tell _anyone_ about what happened here until we do!"

"But—!" But... what? Kurt was already outside before any more of the protest/question could reach his ears.

The cold evening wind was a slap in the face. Kurt madly looked about; fortunately, he could still very much make out the burly figure in a half-jog, half-run down the street. "Dave!" he shouted, sprinting after the retreating form. Dave picked up his pace, but not enough to outpace Kurt's desperation. "Dave Karofsky, stop!"

Kurt was never sure why Dave obeyed. Perhaps he realized that even if he did outrun his pursuer, that wouldn't change what had already happened. Perhaps he was tired of running... at that moment, at least. But whatever the reason (and Dave couldn't remember in following years), he stopped, turning towards Kurt as he approached. "Please..." he babbled hoarsely, "please don't tell anyone you saw me there! Please! I'll do anything—!"

It took Kurt a moment to catch his breath before he could speak. "We should talk," he finally managed to spit out. He cocked his head towards the conveniently located Starbucks across the street. "Want some coffee?"

Dave blinked owlishly. "You asking me out for coffee, fancypants?" The question was tremulous, the quavering of his voice completely overwhelming the minuscule amount of familiar bravado that he managed to jam in, the half-grin that was barely a grin at all.

Kurt couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm suggesting we get out of this cold and warm up," he said with a bit of an eye roll. "Unless you want to have this entire conversation out here. On the street. Where anyone can see and hear—"

"Coffee's good," Dave said quickly.

Barely ten minutes later, the two were seated at a warm table near the back corner of the Starbucks. Dave was practically hunched over his steaming cup, barely looking Kurt in the face as he sipped. Kurt watched his erstwhile companion's shaking hand and marveled at just how much story he was obviously missing with this young man — a story he had no conception existed until just days ago... A story that, even before knowing exactly what it was, completely upended what he thought he knew about Dave Karofsky.

It took a few minutes before the shaking wore down, before Dave was able to look Kurt in the eye. "Please don't tell anyone," he repeated desperately.

"If you're so concerned about people knowing..." Kurt began carefully, "why did you go to a gay bar in the first place?"

Dave grimaced. "I figured... I figured I wouldn't see anyone I knew there. I figured OSU is a big campus even if I did run into someone who went there too. And..." He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. "I had to go. I'm finally out of Lima, and it was just fucking killing me knowing that there were people... people like me out there and..." He took a long drink out of his coffee, as if trying to find some sort of alcohol content in it.

"You're from Lima," Kurt said, and boy, did that explain a lot right there. "So you're not out, then." Obvious answer, really, but he had a feeling he needed to start from the ground floor with Dave, if only to get him to _relax_ a little...

"Oh, fuck, no." He shook his head violently. "I didn't even... I didn't even let myself think I was... y'know... like that... until about a year ago."

"And your parents...?" The question almost didn't need asking; Kurt had often considered what his life would be like had he not had a supportive family, not to mention the almost endless litany of heartrending tales on the Internet from kids their age who weren't so lucky...

"My mom's... she's real religious. My dad isn't, but he just loves her so much and he goes along with whatever she wants..."

"I see." And Kurt really did, more than he thought he ever would. "Dave, let me reassure you right now: I won't tell anybody, not unless you want me to, and I'm going to make damn sure Blaine doesn't either. I don't believe in outing people; I think everybody has their own lives and own reasons, and need to deal with their sexuality at their own pace. Although..." He grinned. "I'm a little surprised you didn't expect to find me at a gay bar..."

A small, pained grin cracked Dave's face. "You don't like parties. I know that about you, remember? Besides... I didn't want to assume..."

"That already is a lot more than the vast majority of people I encounter ever do. So thank you for that."

Dave blushed, which was, in retrospect, a huge signal, but with the emotional atmosphere hanging around the two, Kurt utterly failed to pick it up. "Whatever, fancy— uh, Kurt," he rumbled.

"Very good."

Dave's thumb rubbed along the side of his coffee cup. "Y-you really won't tell anyone?"

"I won't, I swear."

"I don't know how I can repay you..."

"Repay me? For being a decent human being?"

"You know how fucking rare that is?" And okay, he did have a point — albeit one that was a shade more cynical than even Kurt normally accepted. "Look, I'm gonna be honest with you..." Here Kurt's ears perked; given what he knew of Dave Karofsky, he had the distinct impression that he wasn't "honest" with a lot of people in his life. "I don't really know you. I mean, you seem like an okay dude, and you're saying the right things... It's just that... I haven't really... trusted a lot of people..." For once, Kurt hated being right. "... And if I just let you keep my secret, it's gonna drive me nuts, wondering if you're going to tell people behind my back. I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything. If there's something, _anything_ , I can do for you, it'd make me feel better — like you have some skin in the game, you know?" Dave rubbed the back of his neck. "Does that make _any_ sense?"

"It makes enough," Kurt said, even as a plan began forming in his head. It was sheer luck, this opportunity just falling out of the sky, and he couldn't let it pass by. The only question was how to take advantage of it without giving away too much. "There's one thing I can think of that you could help me with..."

"What?" Dave asked eagerly.

"I don't know if Finn's mentioned this, but I'm taking this elective math course, and it's driving me insane. I thought I knew what I was doing, but the teacher keeps going faster and faster ahead, and I'm barely keeping up. I really want to make my GPA as high as possible. Do you know anyone who can help me? Like a tutor? I don't have a lot of free time, so it'd have to be someone who's got a flexible schedule and can do as much as he can in a short amount of time. That's what I most need right now, so if you have any leads for me..."

It felt riskier than it probably was; after all, if Dave didn't want to assume Kurt was gay, he probably couldn't dream that he'd know about his little secret hobby. But Kurt mentally held his breath anyway.

Dave's face went through a dozen different emotions in just a couple of seconds, most of which could be described with varying synonyms of "fear" and "surprise." He was silent for so long, Kurt would've wondered what was up had he not known the truth. He pretended to be preoccupied with the last of his mocha. Finally, Dave spoke, his voice once again tight and hoarse. "I think... I think I know someone."

"Excellent! When can you introduce us?"

"Well, y'see... I..." Kurt could practically _see_ Dave gathering his courage. "You're already looking at him." The sentence was out of him in one long breath, as if he were afraid pausing just a moment would cause his courage to flee. As it was, he looked practically nauseous as soon as the words were said.

Now here was a delicate moment. Kurt hated to say what he was about to say, but he knew any other reaction would look unnatural, given their history. "You?" he asked in a gently skeptical voice.

"Yeah, me." Umbrage and irritation added some stiffness to Dave's spine.

"I thought you said you weren't taking any academically rigorous courses."

"I'm not."

"So how can you help me? You're a phys ed major."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty good with math anyway." He scowled. "Look, trust me, this is the easiest way for you to get your A. If you don't ace your next quiz, I'll find someone else, but I can help. I know I can."

Kurt pretended to turn the thought over in his mind. "Well... If you're really that confident..."

"I am." The firmness of Dave's tone was unlike anything else he'd said that night. "If that's really what you need, I want to help."

"Then... Okay. Let's give it a shot. But you'll have to go slow with me. I'm not exactly the most mathematically minded man in the world, and going too fast is exactly why I'm not learning everything from Prof. Schuester."

"Schuester?" Dave's brow furrowed. "Yeah, he's smart and all, but he doesn't really get average students, y'know? It's like he can only relate to PhDs and shit."

"Yeah, he does strike me as— Wait, how do you know that?"

"Oh! Uh..." Dave sputtered. "Just what I've heard from some of my frat brothers. Y'know. Some of those guys are scary smart."

Even if he hadn't known the truth, Kurt would've known something was up. How this man managed his deception so long, he had no idea. "All right, then. We should both go home and get some rest. It's been an emotionally draining evening."

"You're not kidding." Dave rose.

"Are you... are you okay?"

"What?"

"Are you okay? Because if you aren't, that's all right."

"I..." Dave stared blankly; it could've been for any one of a number of reasons. Kurt waited patiently. "Um... I guess? I'm... I'm not going to hurt myself or anything, if that's what you're thinking. My heart's still pounding like a motherfuck, but that just might be the caffeine." Even the small, weak smile Dave gave was enough to relax Kurt a little. "You're the one taking a chance on me with this math thing, but that actually kinda makes me feel better. So... thanks. For asking, I mean."

There was a quiet sincerity to those words that clung to Kurt like melted chocolate, all the way through the silent mutual bus ride back to campus, all the way through his thoughtful walk back to the dorm, and all the way through the night.

* * *

The first tutoring session took place the following Monday in a corner of the 8th Avenue Library that was so little trod that Kurt knew it had to be deliberate. But then, he had a reputation to keep, didn't he — an important one, that shielded both of his major secrets at once. It wouldn't do for that reputation to be seen regularly with a theatre geek like him. If nothing else, it could make people wonder what was up...

"Okay..." Dave said after a quick look around to make sure they were alone. "Let's see what Prof. Schuester is teaching you." He took a quick skim over the syllabus and the textbook (written, of course, by the professor himself). "Mm hmm... So what are you having trouble with?"

"Almost everything? Like I said, I understand it to an extent, but the pace is just too fast for me. I barely have a grasp on one concept when he immediately moves into the next. I feel like I'm getting further and further behind the deeper we go."

"I got it. Let's start at the beginning, then, and work our way forward. So what kind of math did you take in high school?"

That was just the first of the surprisingly incisive and relevant questions Dave asked. Just because the man was some kind of math genius, after all, didn't mean he was necessarily a good teacher. But Dave seemed to have a sort of instinct for what kind of foundation they both needed to make this whole weird arrangement work; after an hour passed, they'd barely dug into anything from class, but Kurt felt better and more confident going forward than he had at any point this entire semester.

Hell, he felt so energized that maybe he wouldn't need Professor Schuester's automatic A.

But then he remembered it was an _eternal_ automatic A, and the greed came back all over again.

Speaking of Prof. Schuester, Kurt knew what he was in for the instant he was stopped on the way out the door after the next class. Schuester waited nervously for the rest of the class to leave before speaking. "Well?" It was plain to both of them that nothing more of the question needed to be asked.

"I'm working on it."

"Can't you work a little faster?" Schuester whined in a fashion most unbecoming of a college educator. "I've got some theories I'm dying to bounce off him..."

 _Whose theories?_ Kurt had to wonder. He had the sinking feeling they originated from one Professor Will Schuester. It struck Kurt then just how much _power_ he held over this man; it was a little awe-inspiring and scary (in the sense of how easily and quickly his mind delved into deep, dark ways to abuse that power). He had to get a hold of himself before he said, "He's not sure he wants to make his talent public..."

"Why?!" Schuester sounded horrified, as if he were just told that curly hair had been made punishable by death.

"... And if I put too much pressure on him, he'll shut down on me," Kurt finished, ignoring the outburst. "If you want results, you'll have to trust me to play it my way, at my pace, and not be metaphorically peeking over my shoulder every time I come to this class. I think that's more than reasonable, don't you?"

With what looked like superhuman effort, Schuester began to relax. He took a deep breath and said, "You're right, Kurt. I apologize. It was very unprofessional of me, and I completely understand your caution." A touch of desperation crept back into his face, his voice. "Just... promise to keep me updated, all right? My promise to you still holds as far as I'm concerned."

"I will." Once more, Kurt felt the thrill of accomplishment as he left the lecture hall. He felt confident that he had indeed gotten Prof. Schuester off his back, for at least the short term.

If only cracking open Dave Karofsky's cocoon would be as easy...

* * *

"He's... he's so _gentle_ , more gentle than you'd expect from a man his size!" Were Rachel's eyelashes...? Yes, her eyelashes were actually _fluttering_ , like a Disney princess'. "He's a little rough around the edges, of course, but he's _such_ a gentleman..."

Kurt wondered if that impression of Finn would last after their first meal together. But would even that calm the girl down? She and his stepbrother had only just met, and she'd been waxing enthusiastic about him for their entire breakfast, so much so that the strangers occupying the rest of their table had fled, and Blaine looked like he was about to drop off to sleep again. Only Kurt's familial interest kept him alert.

It seemed that part of Kurt's plan had worked a little better than he'd thought. Finn was a nice guy at heart, but Kurt always got the impression that he was happy to be a follower rather than a leader in a relationship; Rachel, of course, was a natural born bossypants, so bringing the two together seemed like a natural idea. He hadn't yet talked to Finn, but he had a feeling that he'd encounter a similar avalanche of little pink hearts emanating from his broad form.

"Oh, Kurt," she gushed, "I can't thank you enough! I hope you don't mind having me as a stepsister-in-law..." Kurt wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn't. After all, he'd already seen her fifty year plan, which included tables, budget projections, and illustrations of what she predicted her children would look like; she probably had to overhaul at least three quarters of it now, though. Still, he had absolutely no desire to dive into _that_ abyss. Lucky for everyone that Finn seemed to be as gone on Rachel as she was on him.

"So, Blaine!" He jabbed the slumping, sagging Blaine in the side; he immediately sat up straight. "How was the rest of the club trip? Sorry I had to duck out."

"Oh..." It took Blaine a moment of blinking to remember who and where he was, apparently. "It went okay. Met a couple of hot guys, danced a lot. Oh, right, what happened with D— Ow!" Underneath the table, Blaine ruefully rubbed the shin that Kurt had just kicked. "I mean, uh... Yeah. There was this one guy, Sebastian, who was really cute... Got his number... So... yeah." Kurt could still see the curiosity swimming in Blaine's eyes, but at least he was successfully holding back for now. Fortunately, Rachel was still so blissed out on Finn that she was only half paying attention.

"I hope both of you will come to feel the happiness I do!" she enthused. "Kurt! I simply must repay you! I have a class with a freshman named Chandler whom I think would be just _perfect_ for you..."

"Ah... I'll keep that in mind, but I'm really kind of busy right now," Kurt said quickly. Even if this Chandler guy really was perfect for him, the idea of being in a relationship started by Rachel Berry just struck a nauseous chord in him. "I decided to get tutoring after all for my math class."

"Well, good!" Rachel said. "I'm glad that you're taking proactive steps. Finn told me you were confident and ambitious. Of course, I said I recognized a kindred spirit right away..."

Kurt's thoughts were mixed (both over the fact that Finn and Rachel were talking about him without him around, and that Rachel considered him a "kindred spirit"), but he was also pleased. His and Finn's relationship had come such a long way since his dad and stepmother first got married... Finn himself had come a long way, and Kurt was very much pleased at the role he had in that journey. Guiding people like that, being a positive influence in another person's life, was, his mother once said, one of the greatest things someone could do with their life. They were casual words, spoken to a child too young to really grasp them, but he remembered, cherished, and lived by them to this day.

It wasn't until after breakfast that Kurt got the text message from Blaine: "TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Kurt, of course, shut that down at once. For one thing, he was very uncomfortable blabbing about Dave to anyone, even someone who already knew part of what was going on.

For another, Kurt had absolutely no idea what he could possibly tell him about this entire situation. He could barely understand it himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I was considering having all the chapters be about the same length, but I noticed that I wasn't getting through more than a couple of scenes that way — practically inching through my outline. I think I'll pick it up, at least a little.**

"Okay, I think I've got it!" Kurt beamed as he filled in the last of the equation. "So that means the graph needs to look like this, right?"

"Right! Hey, you're getting it pretty quick!"

"That's thanks to you. You're clarifying all the little things Prof. Schuester just assumes I understand." Kurt cocked his head. "You're a lot more patient than I thought you'd be."

"Yeah, well, I have motivation, you know?" Kurt grimaced; it was an unpleasant reminder of just how far things had to go to get Dave to even this small step to begin with. Even though he bent over backwards to make sure that Dave knew he could walk out of this arrangement whenever he liked without consequence, Dave, and his fears, stubbornly stayed put.

But Kurt had a strong feeling that it wasn't just the fear that kept him around. As the tutoring sessions progressed, Dave became more... animated. Not that he wasn't larger than life before, but there was more... _substance_ to him — definitely more enthusiasm. The change wasn't one that Kurt could've objectively described if his life depended on it, but every nerve in his being told him it was there. Maybe the best metaphor Kurt could think of was that of a dam break: tiny at first, but as the pressure grew, the crack grew wider and wider, until, eventually, it collapsed under a roar of rushing water.

Kurt tapped his mechanical pencil against his notebook thoughtfully, though it wasn't the next homework problem he was musing on, as Dave was probably assuming. Certainly if Dave had been keeping his math skills as close to his chest as it appeared he was, it had to be incredibly isolating. Now that he had some kind of outlet to share his talent, even in such a limited way, maybe he'd see that there was nothing to be afraid of...?

"Hey, Kurt?" The named young man looked up at the question. It'd taken a couple of sessions to suppress Dave's habit of calling him "fancypants," but even if nothing else happened, that alone made this whole experience worthwhile. "What's your major?"

"Hm? Theatre, actually, with a minor in music. Why do you ask?"

"Um, well... It just kinda occurred to me that I really don't know much about you, and if we're going to be doing this... I figured I'd feel a lot better about all of it if I got to know you. I mean, Finn talks about you all the time, how great you are and all, but for all I know, you could still out me tomorrow..."

"I see your point. Then I suppose I should start with a brief biography: I grew up in the Columbus area. My dad owns his own auto repair business..."

"What do you want to do with your life?"

Kurt's lips curled in a slight frown as he regarded Dave, who was close to leaning over the table towards him. There was something about the eagerness, the strain, with which he'd asked that already mildly odd question... Something inside him told him that he had — _had —_ to answer, as directly and as fully as he could. "I want to be a star," he said simply.

Dave chuckled. "Man, you don't go halfway, do you?"

"Of course not. I learned long ago that not giving it my all wouldn't make me happy. I'm proud of my accomplishments, and I like what I do. If others don't like it, screw them. I can't let other people run my life for me."

"You make it sound so simple." Once again, there were shades there that Kurt couldn't yet fathom.

"For me, it is... Now, at least. It was a lesson won with a lot of hardship. Would I have rather not gone through it? Of course. But I think I'm a stronger person for it. It helped me focus on myself, figure out who I am and what I want. I have a goal, I have a plan, and I'm ready, willing, and able to do what it takes to follow through — and I think that makes a lot of difference. It's actually sort of comforting."

It was only at this point that Kurt actually looked up. Dave was staring at him, yet... not. His eyes were unfocused, as if he were looking at something else, something that wasn't really there, except in Dave's mind. Yet Kurt had absolutely no doubt that every word of his had been absorbed.

"That's great," Dave finally said softly. "That's great that you're able to do that. I really admire that."

It didn't feel like the right time to press, no matter how much he wanted to. "What about you?" It was counterproductive, Kurt realized, but so completely natural even given ignorance of what Dave was really capable of that it almost had to be asked. Besides, he was genuinely curious.

"Hm?"

"If you get to know me, I get to know you. So what about your life?"

Dave shrugged casually. "Eh, I'm not that interesting." He spread his arms with a small grin. "What you see is what you get, you know?"

Kurt frowned. Had he been even a little more ignorant, he might have been completely fooled. But not now, not ever again. "Okay, at this point, that is so obviously untrue that I'm actually insulted." The grin melted from Dave's face. "For what it's worth, I've been out and openly interested in gay culture for years now, and I never pegged you. Not once." An interesting mix of reactions flickered from the other side of the table. "I'm sorry for all the forces in your life that made you feel like you were forced to hide, but believe me, I know enough about the dark side of humanity to make me the last person who'll judge you for doing so. Who knows — maybe if things had been different, I'd be doing the same. But I never had much of a choice about being open — people were assuming anyway — so I decided to just own it. You have to do right by you. I can't tell you how to live your life..."

The thought brought him up short. Here he was, preaching about how he respected the life choices of others, yet he was trying to basically prod Dave into doing something he clearly didn't want to do — with an ulterior motive, at that. On the other hand, he _remembered_ — remembered what it was like suppressing his true self, his true passions, out of fear of how others would react. It was hell — honestly hell. He still clearly remembered the nights he spent laying awake in bed, wondering if he could get through one more day... How could he wish that kind of self-inflicted prison on anyone?

Maybe this was an opportunity to resolve that dilemma. Maybe if he opened up to Dave, Dave would begin to feel comfortable enough to do the same, and allow Kurt to figure out the best way to proceed. Because he knew now, with stone cold certainty, that he wouldn't throw Dave Karofsky to the wolves, not even for an eternal A. (The fact that he was now fascinated by all the secrets and complexity Dave was apparently keeping, and was yearning to find out more, was, of course, completely irrelevant.)

"... But," he managed to continue, "I can still give friendly advice." He smiled. "I'm a bit of a meddler that way."

"I knew it," Dave said with a chuckle. "I always thought you were a nosy, meddling fucker."

"Hey!"

"Nah, don't get your panties in a wad, fancypants — that's just part of your charm!"

"Well! I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted!"

"Maybe both?"

The two laughed. But Kurt's memories would return to this conversation many times later on, and every time, he'd reprove himself for not even suspecting.

* * *

Rachel was still pouting.

"For the last time," Kurt said with a sigh, "I didn't know you wanted to do that song."

"Oh, no, no, I understand," Rachel said as she crossed her arms with a long suffering, put-upon expression. "Go ahead. Take that song that I've always dreamed of singing in a romantic duet with my husband-to-be. I'll just sit in the audience, and listen, and wonder what could've been..."

Kurt felt like smacking someone in the face — whether Rachel or himself was a 50/50 proposition. Why did performing arts majors have to be so... so... _dramatic_? And it wasn't like this was a major performance, for God's sake — it was just a public mini-recital of sorts, meant to loosen everyone up and get them ready for the real ones later on in the year. Yet here Rachel was, treating it as though it were opening night at the Winter Garden.

"I'm sure your future husband won't mind if I sing it just this once," Kurt said, his voice teetering on the knife's edge between soothing and venomous. It took conscious effort to suppress the urge to ask her if she ever actually paid attention to the lyrics of her perfect romantic duet. "It's too late to do anything about it, anyway, and it's my turn in five minutes. So let's just drop it for now and we can talk about your future courtship later, all right?"

"Of course. I'll leave you alone. With _your_ song. Break a leg." The wish was just sarcastic enough to make Kurt wonder, but he didn't have time to mentally process anything before Rachel wandered away. He breathed a sigh of relief. Why did other people have to be so tiring?

"Next!" Ms. July's strident voice instantly jolted his spine with energy — both the adrenaline of being about to step on stage and, honestly, sheer terror. He hadn't known that "she's mean because she cares" was actually a thing, and not just an excuse to be an asshole, until he met Ms. July. Whether that made it easier or harder on her students was a question Kurt had still not resolved.

He quickly strode out onto the stage, into the warmth of the waiting lights. He took a split second to drink it all in: the excitement, the tension, the eyes out there in the dark, focused on _you_... It was exhilarating.

As his own eyes adjusted, the first face he made out in the audience was, of course, Ms. July, already boring holes into his frontal lobe with her stare. The rest of his classmates came into focus, including Rachel, who was saying something to... Finn, one of the only people not in performing arts present. Huh. He'd promised to come to one of Kurt's performances one of these days, but he had absolutely no idea who he was actually there for. The way he waved her off, though, gesturing towards the stage, was an encouraging sign.

The piano struck up, and all of Kurt's speculation was washed away.

 _I know there's something in the wake of your smile..._  
 _I get a notion from the look in your eyes..._

It was from a random video on YouTube that he got the idea to do this song for the mini-recital. It brought up memories of listening to the radio with his father on long drives, which was a somewhat more substantial connection for him than Rachel's, as far as he was concerned. So really, his claim was far greater than hers.

 _The precious moments are all lost in the tide..._  
 _They're swept away and nothing is what is seems..._

He was preparing his throat for the next repetition of the chorus when the corner of his eye caught a door in the back of the theater opening. Silhouetted for a brief moment in the frame of light was a tall, burly figure — one he instantly knew, for it had haunted his thoughts like a drumbeat over the past month.

He nearly stumbled over the next notes.

 _Listen to your heart when he's calling for you..._  
 _Listen to your heart there's nothing else you can do..._

Although he continued his performance, his eyes remained focused on Dave. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching and listening. Then that old familiar smirk plastered onto his face, as if he'd just put on a mask. He strolled down the aisle until he got to Finn's and Rachel's row. There he scooted past the few people seated in between, leaving a trail of annoyed glares behind him. He sat down next to Finn; the two fist-bumped. Finn said something in Dave's ear and gestured towards the stage, much as he had with Rachel. Dave nodded, but his own gesture felt absent. Kurt barely managed to remember the next lines.

 _And there are voices that want to be heard..._  
 _So much to mention but you can't find the words..._

Dave's attention was back on the stage now. He and Finn were now twins of rapt attention. Even Rachel's brow had relaxed, just a little bit. But Kurt's mind was buffeted with questions, so many questions...

 _Listen to your heart when he's calling for you..._  
 _Listen to your heart — there's nothing else you can do..._

As he reached the emotional climax of the song, Kurt was getting carried away on the music, as he usually was. Nevertheless, some part of him refused to take his eyes off Dave, as if staring alone would reveal answers. Of course, the hope was in vain.

 _I don't know where you're going and I don't know why..._  
 _But listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye..._

As soon as the music faded away, he was met by applause, some of it polite, some of it genuine. One of the genuine ones, Finn, let out a piercing whistle. Dave was applauding, but his sincerity wasn't entirely clear from this distance. Ms. July, per normal, said nothing, instead writing in a notebook. Kurt felt a stab of dread; even this relatively short way through his first term, he already knew the pain that normally accompanied a Cassandra July critique. Not that any of her thoughts were usually _wrong_ , but they were not sugar coated. At all. In fact, they were normally coated with chili powder and rusty nails. One thing Ms. July had going as a teacher: you _always_ remembered her critiques.

"Next!" she barked. But that wasn't the only reason Kurt was eager to get off that stage — not by far. He made a beeline for the central aisle as the next student, a chipper girl named Jane, replaced him onstage. He slid down a row of seats until he finally took the empty spot next to Rachel (quite unwillingly; considering the sideways glares she was still giving him, he would've much rather sat next to Dave — not to interrogate him, no, of course not).

His impatience was tempered by actually managing to get into the performances of his classmates: admiring the good while whispering snarky comments to Rachel about the bad (who giggled along with him, actually loosening up as the recital went on). After the last student left the stage, Ms. July stood and turned to the gathered classes. "That's it," she announced. "I'll be sending out emails in the next day or so. I suggest you read them as soon as you get them if you know what's good for you." There were more than a few worried glances exchanged around Kurt. "Dismissed."

Where there was once music, there was now the zipping of backpacks and the low buzz of chatter. Finn and Rachel immediately turned to each other and started talking about something that Kurt didn't care enough to pay attention to; he was too busy squeezing past them. By the time he succeeded (damn, he'd forgotten just how _big_ Finn was), Dave was already in the aisle, stalking towards the exit.

"Hey!" Kurt called out. Dave froze, then slowly turned.

"Hey." He looked around; Kurt did so as well. The auditorium was now mostly empty; those remaining, like Finn and Rachel, were paying absolutely no attention to them. Seeing this seemed to buoy Dave, for he returned his focus to Kurt and said, "You were really good."

"Thanks." There was a brief silence; he could hear Rachel asking Finn if he owned a coat and tie. "I'm a little surprised to see you here."

Dave rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, you're doing me a favor, so I thought I should return it."

"You don't need to feel obligated to me. As I've said before, I'm not doing this to be repaid."

"It wasn't just that. You said this was your dream, so... I wanted to see it for myself." He shrugged, leaving Kurt utterly clueless on what he was feeling at that moment, or what he was supposed to feel. "See if you were good enough," he added with a grin.

Kurt snorted; unlike... _before_ , he knew exactly how seriously Dave meant his little jab. "Then I'm glad you liked what you saw. Or heard, anyway."

Dave coughed; he took a second to recover before he spoke again. "I said I did, didn't I?"

"So you told Finn you were here to see him? And listening to me was just a neat coincidence?"

Dave glanced over Kurt's shoulder, in the direction of the aforementioned Finn Hudson, before nodding. "Yeah. He said he was coming to this, which is how I knew about it to start with. I pretended I had to ask him something about the weekend." Another silence. "Look, I really appreciate—"

Kurt sighed. " _I'd_ really appreciate it if you'd take my silence as something that has nothing to do with you. Remember, I'm only going along with this tutoring thing because _you_ wanted to do something for _me_ to feel better."

"Okay. All right." Dave took in a breath. "Anyway, yeah... You were good. I think you can be a star, if that's what you want."

"Well... thank you. Because it is." There was another awkward silence; Kurt absently noted that the two of them seemed to spend as much time in those as they did talking.

"So... I gotta go." Dave stuck his hands in his coat pockets. "See you tomorrow?"

"Until tomorrow." He watched Dave leave, wondering just what on Earth that was all about...

* * *

"Popcorn?" Dave said with a raised eyebrow as Kurt opened up his duffel bag. "I thought you'd be too much of a goody two shoes to sneak food into the library."

Kurt shrugged. "I've been learning a lot from you, so I thought this might help the time pass more easily. Besides, it's the Christmas season, so I thought a treat would be nice. I hate microwave popcorn, but it was the best I could do. Hope you don't mind."

"You kidding? Of course not." Kurt ripped open the bag of popcorn; steam wafted out. "How the hell is that still hot?"

Kurt smiled inscrutably as he poured the popcorn into a bowl he'd also brought along for the occasion. "That's my secret."

The next few minutes passed in companionable quiet, broken only by the sound of crunching popcorn and Dave tapping his pen against the table as he read over Kurt's homework. "You're really getting it, Kurt. I think you're gonna ace that test."

"That's really good to hear. Seriously."

"Hey, you did all the heavy lifting; I just helped."

"But without that help, I still wouldn't be as far as I am right now, so be proud."

Dave popped a few kernels into his mouth. "Well, you should still be proud yourself. You're almost out of Schuester's class. Maybe you should come by the frat house sometime to celebrate. When we're having a party, I mean."

Kurt paused a moment to gather his thoughts; here was the sticky moment he'd been anticipating for the past two weeks. "Well, actually... I've signed up for another one of his electives for next term."

Dave raised both eyebrows. "Really? Why?"

Of course, Kurt couldn't tell him the actual reasons why: _I need the opportunity for the eternal A Schuester promised me. I need an excuse to keep meeting with you, so I can figure out what's going on with you — for my own peace of mind as well as Schuester's. I just can't figure you out, Dave Karofsky, and I have to_ know _..._ "For the same reasons I signed up for this one to begin with: because it doesn't conflict with any of my other classes, and meets at a decent hour of the day. Plus... Now that I've been working with you, I feel more confident in my abilities now. I think I can handle another term, thanks to you."

"... Wow."

"Hm?"

"I think this is, like, the most good I've done in anyone else's life... like, ever." Once more, those deeper shades that Kurt only barely understood, but even that bare understanding was enough. "Anyway..." Kurt could hear Dave trying to infuse as much normalcy into his voice as he could. "I'm glad I was able to help. At least now you don't need me." The tone was lighthearted, joking... Yet, Kurt knew, it wasn't. Why not?

It was, of course, only because of his curiosity that he immediately jumped in with, "Actually, there's no guarantee that Schuester won't lose me all over again next term. Do you mind if we... keep on meeting? Not necessarily for tutoring, but for... brush-up. To make sure I'm keeping up?"

"I... Sure! I mean, if you don't mind..."

"Dave, I was the one who asked. Of _course_ I don't mind."

"Y-yeah. Right. Sorry." Dave stuffed a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. His eyes averted from Kurt's as he chewed; Kurt used the opportunity to gather his books and papers.

"So you think we'll be able to handle whatever Schuester teaches next term?"

Dave snorted. "Yeah. I told you, I'm good at math."

"That good?" The question was out of him before he could stop it, or even consider it. "So why aren't you taking any classes in it?" Dead silence. Even the chewing had stopped. "Do you like math?"

There was a hesitation before Dave answered. "Actually... Yeah. A lot."

"So why aren't you taking any math classes? Why are you majoring in phys ed instead?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand _now_ , Dave."

"I think you should mind your own goddamn business if you want me to tutor you." Dave rose; Kurt followed suit. He wasn't 100% sure how or why, but it was obvious he'd touched some kind of nerve.

"Dave—"

"Have a good vacation, Kurt." He disappeared into the stacks before Kurt could say another word, leaving him behind with a mostly empty bowl of quickly staling popcorn.

Kurt didn't curse often, but when he did, he felt it. "Shit."

* * *

Carole Hudson-Hummel was capable of spoiling her kids rotten when she felt like it. So, of course, their first Christmas home from college, she went all out.

"Holy sh— crap!" Finn gasped when he saw the feast spread out on the dining room table. "This is _awesome_ , Mom!"

"Wipe your chin," Kurt said dryly.

"You think you boys can handle all this food?" Carole asked teasingly.

"Well, I know _he_ can," Kurt said, cocking his head towards Finn. "But I think the rest of us can put a dent in it too."

Burt Hummel rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I completely agree, son."

Just as they sat down, a shrill chime went off from Finn's pocket. Carole gave him a glare that could've melted steel. "Sorry!" Finn said. "Just let me answer it just once and I'll turn off the phone. Promise." He tapped quickly at his phone screen, then shoved it back into his pocket. "There. It's off. Sorry, Mom."

Her indignation waning, Carole started to pass around the plates. "Who was it that was so important you had to interrupt Christmas dinner? Your new girlfriend?"

"Mom! She's not my girlfriend. Not yet." Those last two words were mostly muttered under his breath as he scooped out a wad of mashed potatoes that might have rivaled basketballs in size. "Anyway, no, that was my friend Dave. He just wanted to say Merry Christmas."

A forkful of ham froze halfway between Kurt's plate and his mouth. His eyes darted about, but the rest of the table was oblivious.

"Oh?" Burt said absently as he buttered a freshly baked roll. "How is he?"

"Okay, I guess." Kurt's ears perked.

"You guess?"

"Yeah. He's been acting a little weird lately."

"Weird how?" It wasn't Burt who supplied the question this time; it was Kurt, and he barely thought before he said it.

Fortunately, Finn was too distracted by having accidentally poured way too much ranch dressing on his salad (at least Kurt hoped it was an accident) to notice any odd interest. "I dunno. He seems fine and normal, but... It's just a feeling. I can't explain it."

"So what's this friend of yours like?" Carole asked; Kurt gave her infinite mental gratitude for asking that innocent question.

"He's... he's just cool, y'know?" Finn said with a shrug as he shoveled a forkful of ham into his gaping maw.

"No, I don't," Carole replied, amused.

"Well..." Finn thankfully swallowed before speaking more. "He comes up real big at parties." His smile slipped on seeing his mother's face. "Which are totally cool. And tame. I hardly drink at all. Not that anyone else drinks...!"

"Go on," Carole said with a fond sigh.

"Well, uh, lessee... He's from Lima, he plays hockey... He's getting C's in all his classes..." Kurt wondered just how many times and to how many people Dave had said that. "But it's weird... I get the feeling he could do a lot better."

"Another feeling?" Kurt said thoughtfully. "Why's that?"

Finn shrugged helplessly. "I dunno. Maybe 'cause he's a good guy. He watched out for all the other pledges when we were rushing. Made sure they weren't pushed too far or anything."

Now that was an interesting fact. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Finn said, apparently mistaking Kurt's interest for skepticism. "He said he was bullied a lot when he was a kid, so he was kind of an asshole in high school, so he wants to make up for it."

 _The plot, as they say, thickens_. There was a lot more Kurt wanted to ask, but couldn't figure out how without arousing suspicion — assuming that Dave had told Finn anything relevant to begin with.

But for now, he partook of Carole's excellent dinner in appreciative silence. He'd have plenty of time to stew over Dave Karofsky later.

Plenty of time.

The rest of Christmas vacation, in fact.

* * *

It was maddening, really, the way Dave had gotten into Kurt's head. Kurt loved mysteries, loved puzzles, and here was a real live one, right in front of him. Seriously, Kurt understood very well that his life wasn't anyone else's, and he couldn't make judgments on others based on what he thought he'd do because of his own experiences, but still! Genius! He thought he had genius of his own in non-mathematical arenas, but to possess it and not enjoy it, not shout it to the heavens... The very concept was almost obscene to him.

It was with some trepidation that he arrived at the 8th Avenue Library the Tuesday after classes started again. He'd texted and e-mailed Dave beforehand, but gotten nothing but one word perfunctory replies back (the one exception was the message "i know get off my back already", at which point Kurt wisely did back off). Most of those replies consisted of the word "okay," which implied that he'd still take up the tutoring again... But that was only an implication.

Fortunately, their usual table wasn't occupied; on the rare occasions it was, they had to work a little to find another, and Kurt had the feeling that had Dave gotten there first, and seen someone there, he might've just left and not bothered. Hell, it might have already happened, for all he knew.

Kurt sat at the table and tapped at his phone. Nothing from Dave... He tried to occupy himself with a game, but it was difficult to concentrate. The hum of the heating system was mildly soothing, but not nearly enough to protect him from the speculations and questions that had been running around in his brain since he picked up that thrice-damned piece of paper.

So lost was he in his inner world, his mind's eye squinting desperately to see what was under that goddamn mask that Dave Karofsky wore, that he was actually startled when the real, actual, living Dave Karofsky threw himself into the chair on the other side of the table with a grunt.

"Hey."

"H-hey." Kurt took a moment to find his tongue again. "How was your break?"

Dave shrugged, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. "Okay. Usual. Older brother visited from California. Mom dragged us all to church Christmas morning. Got a bunch of presents, most of it stuff I didn't ask for." After that last word, the silence that dropped over the table was leaden.

Obviously, it was up to him to warm things up again. "I'm sorry," Kurt said; Dave looked up at him, looking almost startled. "I didn't mean to pry. If I go over the line again, just tell me, and I'll back off, okay?" No answer, but Dave didn't get up; in fact, he gave a small nod. That encouraged Kurt to move on. "Did Finn give you your Christmas gift yet?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I was with him at the video game store when he got it."

"Oh. Yeah, he did. He's a cool guy. Better than any of my friends in high school." Dave's shoulders hunched. "Probably the best I've ever had."

Under other circumstances, Kurt might have pressed. But he knew better. "Mine went well. Seeing family again is always nice." Dave grunted. "Oh, speaking of friends, my friend Blaine asked about you recently."

Dave looked up with a suspicious glare. "Why?"

"He was just wondering if I'd talked to you lately. I told him nothing," Kurt hastened to add, even though he'd already said that to Dave before. "But..." He couldn't help but crack a smile. "He said if you were interested in getting coffee with him sometime..."

Dave's eyes widened. "Why the fuck would he want to?"

Kurt frowned. "Why not?"

"I mean... Look at me. I'm nothing like him. Or..." He waved a careless hand in Kurt's direction.

"So what? You don't think we're the template for all gay men, do you?" Silence. "Oh, God, you do, don't you?" He had to remind himself, Lima...

Dave had the good grace to look at least a little embarrassed. "Well... I mean... Most of the guys at that bar were kinda like you two..."

"And you haven't looked around on the Internet? At all?"

Dave flushed and shook his head. "Didn't want to risk it. My parents kept track, and..." He reddened further. "I figured it'd all be porn crap anyway..."

"No wonder you're still in the closet..." Kurt exhaled. "Okay. I can't speak for all gay men, but I can certainly speak for myself. With me, what you see is what you get, and I've been me for as long as I can remember. I didn't know there was anything 'unusual' about me at first, but I started getting the idea at a pretty young age. And it hurt, being me. I tried to hide, I tried to conform to what everyone else wanted and expected. But it got tiring. It got very tiring. And I hated every moment of it." Kurt's eyes were focused on his hands in front of him, lost in the memories, but he heard the rustling of Dave's clothing across from him. He hadn't consciously started with the intent of drawing the parallels he knew he was making, but now that he started, he was committed. And why not? "So in a sense, I... gave up. I gave up trying to please others. I gave up suppressing what I wanted. The only people whose opinions mattered to me... They supported me." Again, he heard Dave shift in his seat, and that opened memories and possibilities he hadn't thought about in quite a while. "And it made all the difference."

"You're so lucky." The words were a hoarse whisper, yet that's all it took to get Kurt's attention. Dave was staring down at his own hands on the table, fingers fidgeting and worrying at each other.

"I... I suppose I am, in a sense. But... sometimes we're not as alone as we think." Kurt looked at Dave — really looked at him this time. He was surprisingly... small, his posture and mood combining to shrink the burly athlete down to half his size. Kurt wondered again how he could've not seen this before. Was he really that blind? Then again, Dave likely had long practice in hiding. "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"When did you... know?"

Dave didn't move or speak, not for a long time. Finally, he sighed deeply, his eyes finally rising to meet Kurt's. "I guess... I guess I always did. When all your friends are straight, it's kinda hard to miss, y'know?" Kurt nodded encouragingly. "But I was in denial for a really long time. Lima... and my parents..." Dave's hands squeezed against each other atop the table, so hard that they turned white knuckled. "But it sorta got to the point where I couldn't ignore it anymore. When you're thinking about guys when you... you know, do _that_... it's kinda stupid to keep denying it."

"How did you handle it?" Kurt asked quietly. He knew he was diving into some deep waters here, but he couldn't stop himself, not when Dave seemed to be responding. Besides, he was always genuinely curious about the experiences of other gay youth, and here was a perfect opportunity to learn more.

"Bad. I was already kinda overcompensating because of... other stuff..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It took me my entire senior year to get my head screwed on straight and stop taking my problems out on other people. I did... I did a lot of things I'm really not proud of, and I'm still trying to make up for that..." _So I've heard_. Kurt managed to think it, but not say it. "That night at the bar was the most, uh, _gay_ thing I've ever actually done. Kinda pathetic, huh?"

"Not at all. You do you. You have to go at your own pace. But in my opinion, having that as your first gay activity is kind of... brave."

Dave blinked. "R-really?"

"I think so. It's a huge first step, and you took it, despite your fear. There's a lot you can learn from that." It did not escape Kurt that Dave seemed more comfortable talking about his sexuality than his math skills. He wondered if it meant anything. Either way, he could already tell that the mood needed a little lightening; they had the rest of the year to figure this out anyway. "Speaking of learning, I hope you're ready to help me, because I've only had one math class, and I can already tell Professor Schuester isn't going to let up on the pace."

All tension and doubt fell away from Dave, so completely and quickly that Kurt had to marvel at it. Perhaps this was the reason he was continuing with the tutoring. "Okay, lemme see the syllabus... All right, it's pretty simple, basic stuff..."

"Simple? Basic?! Maybe to you!"

"Hey, it's a fucking freshman level elective. What did you expect him to teach, P versus NP? There's nothing wrong with starting slow."

"That's the problem. I've had trouble even with 'slow'..."

"Look, dude, you memorize songs, right? You belt 'em out live even when there's, like, a hundred people staring at you, right? I sure as hell can't do that. You gotta go at your own pace. You just told me that, remember?" So he did. Huh. "You can learn this shit same way you learn new songs. You already did it last term. Besides, do you worry about how good your friends sing in class, or do you just pay attention to yourself? Just... stay cool and work at it, and you're gonna do fine. Promise."

Kurt was... Huh. He actually felt reassured. Maybe it was the confidence in Dave's voice — quiet but unmistakable. Maybe it was the fact that the confidence had absolutely nothing to do with his own skills, but Kurt's. Maybe it was both. Kurt found himself nodding. "Okay. Then let's get started."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Back to the original chapter lengths for now; this scene was important enough that I felt it needed to stand alone.**

"Kurt? Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Kurt froze halfway out the door, forcing one of his classmates to do a quick dodge around him. He and Professor Schuester had not spoken directly since last term, but ever since the new one started, he'd been waiting for this particular shoe to drop. He'd hoped he'd have a little while longer, but oh well.

They waited until the room was empty. Once the door clicked shut behind the last straggler, Schuester spoke. "I'm not going to pressure you," he said immediately, and to his credit, his yearning glances at Kurt (almost, but not nearly enough like, the kind he'd hoped for ever since he was a romantically minded kid) had dropped significantly. But Kurt had no illusions that Schuester would just sit back and wait with infinite patience indefinitely. "But I just wanted you to know that my offer still stands, even if you didn't need my help to earn your A last term." Schuester gave a small smile. "I assume, given your rapid improvement, that the person I'm looking for is responsible...?"

Kurt shrugged in what he hoped was a noncommittal fashion. "Well, I did get a little help..."

"You know that just makes me want to meet him even more?" Schuester stood, gathering up his papers and books. "I'll treat him with respect, I promise. I just want to make sure that he taps his full potential." _And take as much advantage of it yourself as you can,_ Kurt thought uncharitably. But it was still most likely true. Then again, what was his own motive in all this...? It was an uncomfortable feeling. "This person has a chance to be truly special, Kurt. I hope you can persuade him to see that."

 _Yes, I can, but it'll be for him, not for you._ "I hope so too." Schuester lit up at that; Kurt immediately wondered if his honesty was a mistake.

As he made his way towards the library and the next tutoring session, he wondered just when he'd broach the subject of Professor Schuester to Dave, and how. There were certainly ways to do so without revealing the... arrangement (and Schuester would definitely not screw up his golden opportunity), but... did he want to? Was that really the way to crack open Dave's shell?

Maybe the opening of the shell should be the priority. Yes, if Kurt succeeded in that, then willingly going to Prof. Schuester would naturally follow, and then Kurt would get all the benefits without having to tell Dave anything or put any pressure on him. Oh, yes, that definitely felt like the right course to take. Buoyed, Kurt practically skipped into the library.

As he entered, reveling in the warmth of central heating, he checked his phone. Hm, he was still 20 minutes early. Ah, well, if Dave hadn't arrived, he could just text Mercedes, assuming she wasn't still in class. That was the big problem with her in California: the time zone difference made it difficult for them to catch up the way they wanted to. But they were both following their dreams, and that had to be — and was — enough for both of them.

As Kurt approached their usual table, he saw that one of the chairs was already occupied by a broad back. At first, Kurt felt a flash of annoyance, as he usually did whenever someone was intruding on "their" territory. But as he drew nearer, he realized that this back did in fact belong to Dave.

Dave didn't turn around at Kurt's approach — mostly because Kurt's steps were naturally soft, the result of years of stage and dance training. Also, he was hunched over the chair, engrossed in whatever was in front of him; Kurt wasn't sure if he would've noticed 76 trombones passing by at this point.

Curious to see what kind of mobile game or online magazine Dave was looking at, Kurt carefully peeked over his shoulder. It was nosy, yes, but that was one of his flaws, one he'd gracefully admitted to several times over the years.

Dave was reading a PDF on his tablet. The title on top of the page read, "A Cascadic Multigrid Algorithm for Computing the Field Vector of Graph Laplacians."

What warned Dave? Was it a hint of shadow falling over the screen? An unconscious intake of breath from Kurt? The slightest squeak of leather that he was unable to suppress? Whatever it was, Dave spun around; Kurt literally jumped back. Dave's face was drawn and pale, much the same as it had that night at the bar. His hands, still clutching the tablet, were shaking so hard that the image on the screen was a mere blur. His trembling fingers scrambled to turn it off, but he had to know it was too late. The two stared at each other for a long minute before Dave managed to speak. "You're..." His voice cracked; he had to swallow and start again. "You're early."

"Yes, I am." His voice sounded so far away to his ears; he distantly wondered what it sounded like to Dave. He circled around the table to take his usual seat as Dave almost physically withered in his own.

"Please... Please don't tell anyone," he rasped in an eerily familiar fashion.

"I won't," Kurt said, even as he winced internally at his lie. After all, it was only half a lie; Schuester still had no idea who he was, fortunately for all involved. But it still stung somewhere inside. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Dave hastily shoved his tablet into his backpack. "I'm not ashamed. I just— I just don't want anyone to know."

"Why not?"

Dave sighed. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Dave, but I just don't get it. If you could really understand what you were reading—"

"I wouldn't be reading it if I didn't," Dave said, the snarky tone carrying a distinctly bitter edge to it.

"Then why do you seem so determined to hide what you can do?"

"What can I do?" Dave asked flatly.

Kurt froze; oh, he almost slipped badly there. "I mean... It was pretty obvious that what you were reading is complicated; it was certainly above _my_ head. That tells me you're a lot better in math than you were telling me." Dave's shoulders slumped once more; Kurt's heart rate went down. It seemed he was buying it. Even then, the vague guilt lingered... "But I honestly don't understand why you seem so insistent on keeping this a secret. Please, Dave, I really do want to know."

The silence between them stretched on for what seemed to be hours. In that time, someone actually passed by their table, but neither of them gave her a second glance. Dave's eyes were empty — no, not empty, just focused on something that wasn't physically there. What was it, Kurt wondered, and how did he get to become so obsessed with Dave Karofsky's innermost thoughts? Just when he was starting to think that Dave wouldn't answer, he actually did.

"I always had a good head for numbers," he muttered. "I was doing long division when my classmates were still having trouble adding two digit numbers. Getting A's and 100%'s in class was, like, ridiculously easy. And I... I liked it, you know? Not getting the A's, even though that was cool, but just... the doing. Making numbers do what they were supposed to do. Coming up with right answers and proofs and... It was the only part of school I really liked."

Kurt watched Dave's face light up more and more as he became lost in his memories, his feelings. He could feel it too — the accomplishment and the joy. "So... what happened?"

Dave rubbed his forehead. "Well, first thing was my teachers talking to my parents, telling them to get me into gifted classes and shit like that. Suddenly, they were all over me, about studying and taking tests, and... My dad actually talked about _colleges_. I was a _kid_ , for fuck's sake. It was like every time I was home, I could feel their eyes on me. They wanted me to succeed before, which was fine, because that's what parents do, right? But now, they expected _so_ much of me. They already wanted me to become this big time student-athlete like my brother, and now they kept saying words like 'special' and 'advanced,' and it was just... It scared me. It scared the fuck out of me. What if I couldn't live up to their expectations? What if I disappointed them? How much of my life would I have to give up to make sure I didn't?"

"Even if it was something you enjoyed?" Even as he asked, Kurt knew how stupid the question was; he could only imagine what he'd think of theatre had he been pushed, had he been watched and expected to become the next Michael Crawford before he was even old enough to drive...

"Yeah, even then. Then there was the other kids. I wasn't very popular back then, but I got by, you know? Nobody paid a lot of attention to me, and that was fine by me. But when I got my A's and my 100%'s, suddenly I was _somebody_ , and not for a good reason. I got called a 'fat nerd' and pushed around and..." Dave took a deep, deep breath, letting it out in ragged gasps. "Let's just say it wasn't a good time."

"I completely understand." The words weren't said with much force or inflection, but Kurt had a feeling that they both knew the truth to them.

"So I guess I... tapered off. I let my grades slide. I said I wasn't interested in math anymore. My parents were on my case for a while, but I guess I was a good actor when I was a kid, because they eventually just kinda... gave up on me and math." He shrugged, and Kurt couldn't help but think that Dave was still a good actor, even as his own heart was twisted this way and that by mixed emotions brought on by what he'd just heard, what he was imagining as a result of what he'd just heard: a little boy resisting the urge to raise his hand in class, erasing right answers and put in wrong ones instead, to asking questions he already knew the answer to so no one would suspect... "I kind of had to sneak around after that. I borrowed my brother's high school textbooks when he wasn't around. I'd go by the library and print out websites and read books in a back corner like I was sneaking fucking porn..."

"So you're self taught? That's... That's really amazing," Kurt breathed.

"I suppose," Dave said with a shrug that struck Kurt as actually sincere, without a hint of false modesty. Did Dave actually not know...?

"That takes a lot of effort," Kurt noted. "Learning and hiding at the same time. You must really love mathematics to go to all that trouble."

Dave hesitated, then continued, studiously not addressing Kurt's point. "So I was invisible again, to the other kids, to my teachers, to my parents... And that was fine. Hell, it was more than fine, it was perfect. Then I started getting taller, my voice got deeper, and all of a sudden, I was big in a _good_ way for once. I actually got chosen for teams in gym class, not just dumped into whichever one had the last pick, and people were asking me why I didn't play any sports. So I tried out for a couple — hockey and football — and... I actually got _accepted_. I was _cool_. I got invited to parties and..." Dave rubbed his eyes. "I didn't know life could _be_ like that."

"And being good at school, especially math... That didn't fit into the image you needed to keep it up."

"Yeah. I even kinda got into the pushing around and teasing myself... No, not even 'kinda', I _definitely_ got into it. It was really messed up of me, but I did it anyway. Because I was angry — angry at kids who didn't have to pretend to like football and beer and every single fucking first person shooter, who could get A's and not get looked at like he was some kind of circus freak..." Dave's voice died at that last word. Kurt waited patiently for him to continue. "I was so screwed up in the head. It was only when I realized that I was... was _gay_ that I stopped. Funny, huh? That it took something like that to get me to wake the fuck up." He shook his head. "I'm still trying to make up for it. I can't do it for the people I actually hurt, but I'll be damned if I let anything like what I did happen to anyone else."

Kurt could almost feel the weight of the atmosphere physically — on his head, his shoulders... "But even through all that... you never stopped with math."

Dave shook his head again. "I'd drive to Westerville just to go to the library or the bookstore so no one would see me. I'd do private browsing on the Web so I wouldn't leave any history records... I even put wrappers over my books to make them look like my regular textbooks. I was a regular fucking ninja mathematician. I know it sounds like a lot of trouble to go to, and yeah, it was, but I just... I didn't have to go to school afraid anymore. People slapped me on the back and told me I was cool instead of shoving me into lockers and tripping me. I didn't have my mom and dad hovering over my shoulder and calling me brilliant and talking about getting my PhD at 18..."

"But you're at college now. You're away from all the toxic people in high school and away from your parents. You could probably pay your own way with a scholarship — maybe even at an Ivy League school. So why didn't you?"

"I thought about it, but even the idea... It still scared me. A lot. I've been pretending and hiding for so long that... that I don't know any other way to live. It's just... easier, you know? Not being me is just easier. No expectations, no one looking over my shoulder and judging me... It's just easier." Dave's eyes were shining again; he had to wipe at his face before continuing. Kurt's own chest was tightening. "I'm not stupid. I know I'm not normal. I know that I'm way better at math than I'm supposed to be at my age. I know it's messed up to be ashamed of it." _But you said before you weren't ashamed_ , Kurt thought, but didn't say. "But I just... I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want or need to be some kind of genius. Or gay, for that matter. I would've... I would've been happy just being normal."

"And that makes me, what?" Kurt asked dryly. "Abnormal?"

"I didn't mean it like—!"

Kurt sighed. "I know you didn't. I'm sorry; my mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes." He leaned forward over the table earnestly. "Look, Dave, I can't tell you how to feel, and I can't pretend that everything that's happened to you in your life so far is insignificant and that you should just be able to 'get over it,' because that's not the way people work. But... if you want my opinion... Just from what I've heard and know from you..." Dave didn't specifically approve, but he didn't object either. His eyes merely locked onto Kurt's, silent. So he went on. "You don't seem happy with pretending to be 'normal' — which is a hugely overused and misunderstood word, by the way. Even with everything that happened because of your skills at math, you kept on learning about it anyway, all on your own. That really does tell me a lot. It sounds like a refuge for you — one of the last and only places you could truly be yourself and do what you wanted. You didn't want to raise expectations, didn't want to be teased, and I completely understand why you didn't come out while you were living in Lima, so it doesn't sound like you had a lot of other ways to be, well... you."

Dave nodded, slowly, like an elderly man. "Y-yeah, that sounds pretty accurate."

"Given all that... Dave, I honestly, truly believe that you'd be happier if you let yourself be you. Even if it's easier not to be, how happy are you now?" Dave didn't answer, but Kurt didn't expect him to. "You once asked me what I wanted to do with my life; I think I know why now. I'd like to ask you the same thing: what do _you_ want to do with _your_ life?"

There was silence again, before Dave finally replied, "I don't know."

"And that's okay; that's what we're here in college for. But Dave, can you imagine doing this for the rest of your life? Being one person to the outside world, and another in private? Creating all this incredible stuff..." Ooh, and there was another slip; he wasn't supposed to know about that. Again, though, Dave didn't seem to catch it. "... And never sharing it with anyone? Maybe publishing something anonymously online while you do... what? Become a gym teacher?"

Dave shrugged. "Sounds good to me. No pressure, no attention... And hey, coach at a public school is a pretty sweet gig," he said with a crooked, forced grin. "Summers off, everyone thinks what you do is important..."

"And that'll make you happy?"

"It's worked so far," Dave muttered, half to Kurt and half to the table in front of him.

"Has it?" It was a simple question, but Kurt knew very well that answering it was anything but. "Keeping your head down may keep it from getting cut off, and it may be easier, but it also keeps you from being able to see the stars. That's what I think."

"What do you care, anyway?" Dave said, hostility entering his voice. "You don't know me, you don't know my life."

"No, I don't," Kurt admitted, "not very well. But talent... being good at something, loving it... That I do know very well. That, I think, transcends all cultural and natural boundaries. You admitted to me you do love mathematics. So why not let yourself experience it?"

Dave's lower lip trembled. "Because..." He rose. "Because I'm a coward." He picked up his backpack, wiping at his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kurt, can we take a rain check on the tutoring? Next time, I promise."

Kurt stood. "Dave..."

"Please. I... I'll see you later, okay?" He turned and walked away, his sniffles audible long after he vanished from sight.

Kurt sank back into his seat, then gently rested his forehead upon the cool wooden table.


	6. Chapter 6

As much as it pained Kurt to be hands off, he also knew that there were times that was necessary. But going to that next tutoring session and paying attention to nothing but math was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life. It was enough of an accomplishment, if it could be called that, that Dave actually showed up, acting like nothing had happened (but then, if Kurt had learned nothing else about Dave, it was that he was a very good actor — it was almost a shame he wasn't in performing arts himself).

During the in-between time, Kurt carefully pumped Finn for whatever information he could without giving himself away, since visiting the frat house, even "innocently", would've been much too transparent. But as far as Finn was concerned, all was normal — Dave was still Dave. The irony there, of course, was that Kurt now knew that the person he'd thought of as Dave at first, the person everyone in his frat house thought he was, even his best friend, wasn't really Dave at all — at least, not entirely.

Dave, the actual real Dave, disappeared from the world's eyes years ago — in a sense, the scared little elementary school boy who just wanted to fit in was the last anyone saw of him. He'd been replaced by this buffoonish stereotype; Kurt imagined it as a porcelain mask bearing a smirking sneer, white and almost perfect, spoiled only by the tears oozing from the eyeholes.

He could understand Dave's fear — he really could. Even though their issues and problems weren't exactly identical, the fear still came from the same place. Acceptance in society was a hell of a lot of pressure; Kurt knew that as well as anyone. He tried to imagine what would happen if he'd actually succeeded in his "straight pretense" phase, if everyone had bought what he sold without question. Would he have continued hiding for the rest of his life, despite his true self screaming to get out? It would've been tempting, very tempting, and God knew that thousands of men before him had chosen to do so to their dying day. Dave just had a little more to hide than most of them, but again, it all still came from the same place.

As Dave said, it was easier to conform. No matter how much effort it took, it was easier than ignoring the insults, the stares, pretending that the whispers and the shunning didn't bother you. Kurt had been out for years, and even though he knew in his mind and in his heart that he was better and happier for it, it was still a trial. Perhaps it always would be. He'd decided long ago that was a price he was willing to pay, and he couldn't ever fault Dave for deciding the opposite for himself.

At the same time, Kurt _was_ out. He _was_ open about himself. And he believed to the core of his being that, despite the hardship, despite the pain, it was the best possible thing he could've done with himself, for himself. But that was him — this was Dave. Kurt wouldn't — and likely couldn't — push Dave into making a decision against his will. But if he could help him get a glimpse of what it was like on the other side, make the choice a little less harsh, a little less stark...

Kurt actually sat at his desk one afternoon after class and fired up a document on Word entitled simply "Dave". In this document, he brainstormed a list of ways he could help Dave see the positives of being open with who he really was. From the pedestrian to the absolutely absurd (like one involving the Rocky Horror Picture Show that brought forth chuckle-worthy mental images), he wrote down them all. A high school English teacher had told him that this was a good way to generate plots. Well, she was right, only he didn't think that this was the kind of plot she'd had in mind.

One step, he decided, was one he should've taken long ago: emphasizing to Dave that he was someone that could be trusted (yes, there was Prof. Schuester, but that had happened before he knew what was going on). All it took to get it rolling was a request to Dave for five minutes in front of the North Commons one afternoon. Dave was already waiting there, his eyes darting about, his feet shuffling nervously, when Kurt walked up at the appointed time with Blaine in tow. At the sight of them — or rather Blaine — his eyes widened in alarm. Kurt stopped himself and Blaine a few feet in front of Dave and dove right in before Dave had a chance to say anything himself.

"I asked you and Blaine here," Kurt said in a low voice, although he doubted any of the milling students around them were paying them the least attention, "to make sure we understood each other." He turned to his fellow performing arts major. "Blaine, you've promised to me that you are never going to share what you know..." He cocked his head towards Dave. "... And that what you saw at the bar is the only thing you know about him. Is that right?"

"Well... I know he's friends with your stepbrother..." Blaine jumped at whatever he saw in Kurt's face and hurried on. "But otherwise you're absolutely right," he said quickly. He turned to Dave. "Look, I know what it's like, okay? Same as Kurt does. You can trust me." Kurt didn't mean to glare at this point, but apparently he did, because Blaine rapidly added, "On this, anyway. I promise."

"Okay, thanks. You can go now. I'll see you at dinner." Blaine still stood there, frozen; Kurt frowned in annoyance. "I said, you can go now. Shoo!" Blaine seemed to snap out of his torpor; he quickly melted into the ever-shifting crowd of passersby. Kurt waited until he was out of sight, then turned to Dave, who was similarly frozen. "I wanted to make sure you knew that your secrets are safe with me, no matter what they are." There was a heavy significance to those last few words; he had to tamp down a wince when Prof. Schuester's face floated into his memory again, like a pesky gnat. "You're in charge of your life, Dave. Just remember that, okay?" _For many reasons even besides the obvious_. He wasn't sure if that needed to be said, but he wasn't going to say it — not aloud, anyway.

"I..." Dave finally nodded. "Okay. Got it." He raised an eyebrow. "Kind of a weirdo, aren't you, fancypants?" Kurt wasn't sure what it was — his new knowledge, the tone of voice — but despite sounding so much like the false Dave Karofsky again, he couldn't find a hint of falsehood in front of him now — only irony.

Thus, Kurt laughed. "I admit that I'm a little dramatic, but it comes with the territory. I think being a weirdo is one of the best things about me." That he emphasized with his own raise of the eyebrow; the smile vanished from Dave's face like morning mist. Kurt mourned silently, even as he told himself that this was for everyone's own good...

The next time he felt comfortable treading that road was at the next tutoring session. They'd finished off a review of polynomials, and Dave's mood, bolstered by discussing mathematics, felt good enough for Kurt to decide to dare. Besides, with the opening Dave unwittingly gave him, how could he resist?

"... So the sum of that series is represented by the constant _e_." This was a bit of a tangent from what they'd been discussing, but once Dave got started, Kurt couldn't bear to interrupt. "It's sometimes called Euler's number, and obviously, since it has its own variable and name and everything, you can tell it's pretty important and special..."

"I like special," Kurt said with a nod. "I think special's interesting. I think special should be encouraged."

Dave stared at him for a moment, then sighed, tossing his pencil onto the table in a resigned manner. "You think that was subtle? I'm not stupid, you know."

"I'm sorry, Dave, but I really do want to know."

"Can I bribe or threaten you into letting it drop for good?"

"I think you'll find I'm not so easily bought or intimidated."

"Then why am I still meeting with you?"

"That is a very good question that you should ask yourself." Dave blinked in response for a moment, his lips parting, but saying nothing. So Kurt said, "I like to think that I myself am special, in my own way, and I'm glad for it."

"Hooray for you," Dave muttered. "You're a lot braver than me."

"I don't think so. Yes, maybe it would've been harder for me to hide than it was for you, but I had the opportunity to do so too, and I tried. I failed, but I could've kept on trying, and I think I could've at least deflected a lot of what was slung my way. But I didn't. It was difficult, yes, but I think it was worth it. I really do think it would be worth it for you too if you gave it a shot."

"I tried that, remember? When I was a kid? That's how I learned that being 'special' sucks royal ass."

"And as I've said before, I think 'normal' is overrated. I know it's a cliche, but I don't think there are that many people in the world who are truly average in all respects — and those who are are boring as hell. Variety is the spice of life, after all, and I think that holds as true for people as it does everyone else."

"Sure. Right. And let me guess: I have a responsibility to the world to share what I can do." The words sounded weary and well-worn; Kurt had the sudden feeling that he was hearing something said long ago, and repeatedly at that. It sounded very Dad — not like his own Dad, but like _a_ Dad.

"No, you don't have a responsibility to anyone but yourself, as far as I'm concerned. You're not morally obligated to do something you don't want to do just for the benefit of everyone else. But you said you love math."

Dave hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he said a little weakly, as if it were an admission of guilt. "I do."

"Are you happy denying yourself the full expression of something you love?"

"I'm happy being accepted," Dave countered. "Being a 'genius' is isolating."

"And what you're doing right now is not?" Dave opened his mouth to say something, but stopped cold; Kurt seized the opportunity to push forward. "I think your talent is wonderful, Dave." His gape grew wider. "I'll admit I don't fully understand the scope of your knowledge, but I think it's wonderful nonetheless. And if it would make you happy—"

"What I want doesn't matter." Kurt could barely make out the words; Dave had lowered his gaze, as if working out formulas etched into the false wood veneer between them. But he still understood them.

"That sounds very sad," Kurt said sympathetically.

"I guess it is."

"Why don't you think that what you want is important?"

"Like I said... it's just easier. I had to fight all the time to be myself and get what I wanted. I just got tired of fighting, Kurt. God, I'm still so so tired..."

"And you don't think life is different for you now? Can be different?"

Dave snorted. "People suck. You can't escape from that, no matter where you go."

Kurt let himself have a small smile. "I never thought I'd meet someone more cynical than myself. I guess I was wrong."

"I have a place now. I have friends. It's safe. I'm safe." Dave sucked in a breath. "I have no idea what would happen to me if I let myself be... a mathematician or whatever. And that scares the fuck out of me."

"Of course it does," Kurt said gently, "but isn't that what college is all about? Stepping out on your own? Finding yourself?"

"What's so great about being me?" Dave growled; Kurt couldn't tell exactly who he was talking to. "I've spent so long being fake, I don't even know what it's like being me anymore. Who the hell would accept the real me, anyway, much less actually like him?"

Kurt knew what he had to say before he even thought of saying it. The fact that it was 100% true just greased the rails even further. "I would."

Dave's head snapped up. The two stared at each other for long moments out of time. Then Dave got to his feet.

"Dave...?" Kurt watched as Dave turned and began walking — almost running — off, leaving his belongings behind. On a wild impulse, Kurt followed, threading through the stacks to the bathrooms. Dave ripped the door open and charged in; Kurt did the same. It was empty, fortunately for the both of them, but it meant that Kurt could clearly hear the sobbing coming from one of the stalls.

Kurt gently pushed open the stall door; it was unlocked. Dave was sitting on the toilet seat, hunched over so far that his chest was practically touching his legs, his hands covering his face as loud gasps wrenched from his chest. Immediately, Kurt knelt down beside him, not even thinking until later about what disgusting dried fluids his new jeans could be touching.

"I... I'm sorry," Dave managed to wheeze through his weeping. Kurt could see tears drip from between his fingers, plopping in fat drops onto the floor. He hiccuped. "I'm a fucking wimp..."

"Shh, shh, no, you're not..." Kurt gently rubbed Dave's back. "You're a human being, with human emotions. It's okay..."

"I... I don't even know why I'm... Shit..."

In Kurt's opinion, that was at least partially a lie — or else maybe Dave just wasn't able to rationally think through his emotion at the moment. But that, for now, was irrelevant. For now, he stayed, knelt on that cold and filthy bathroom floor, waiting, thankfully alone, for the tears to wring themselves out.

* * *

"Hey... Can I ask your opinion about something?"

"Swallow first, Finn," Kurt said dryly. "Then yes."

Finn obeyed, emptying his mouth of half-chewed hamburger, before speaking again. "Okay, I got this friend. A really cool friend. But he's been acting kinda... weird lately."

Kurt's spine immediately stiffened in attention. Even if it hadn't been for what Finn said during Christmas dinner, he would've suspected the identity of this mystery "friend" anyway; subterfuge and deception weren't exactly Finn's strong suits. "Go on."

"Usually, he's really cheerful and up for anything, y'know? But lately, he's been... kinda down. I've hardly seen him all week. I asked Ryder — his roommate — and he said that D— I mean, _he_ , has been sleeping a lot more and barely talking." Finn fidgeted with his napkin. "I'm kinda worried about him, but I don't think I should just go up and ask him what's wrong. I mean, you know how guys are..." Finn's eyes widened at Kurt's glare. "Straight guys, I mean! We don't like talking about feelings and stuff, especially frat guys. So if I tried, he'd just say he's fine or call me a pussy. Maybe both."

"Fair enough," Kurt said slowly, still trying to assimilate all of this new information. "So you're asking what I think you should do?"

"Yeah. You've always been better with this people stuff than me. Plus, you're objectionable..."

"I think you mean 'objective'," Kurt said with a chuckle.

Finn wrinkled his nose, then laughed. "Fuck, I did, didn't I? I can't believe I'm still doing that. Anyway, yeah, objective. I really want to help him if I can, Kurt." Finn's voice turned low and sincere. "Like I said, he's..."

"Cool, yes, I know." Kurt stroked his chin thoughtfully. He had little doubt where Dave's emotional turmoil was coming from; he'd confronted it directly just the previous week, after all. It certainly explained, as if it needed any explaining, why Dave had begged off from tutoring temporarily. While it was probably a good thing that Dave was apparently seriously thinking about what Kurt had told him, obviously the other effects it was having was something that needed to be addressed. For that, Finn could definitely play an important part... "Well, if you don't want to ask him straight out if he needs anything, I think the best thing might be for you to just remind him that you're there for him. You know, that you're willing to be there to help him forget his troubles, listen, whatever he needs." Kurt raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You _are_ willing, aren't you?"

"Of course I am! He's my friend."

"And you'll help him, no matter what his problems happen to be?"

"Sure! Unless he's killed someone — then I'd have to go to the cops and all, but I'd still feel bad about it. Though if Dave did kill anyone, the guy probably deserved it..."

Kurt hid a smirk behind his hand, deciding not to point out to Finn that he'd accidentally dropped Dave's name. "Then I think that's probably the best way to proceed. Like you said, you can't force him to ask for help, but it might make him feel better to know that you're there for him."

Finn nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Kurt."

"No problem." Kurt sipped at his Diet Coke. This felt like a good time to bring up the questions he had in mind, but would Finn make the connection, him asking about this so fast on the heels of this conversation about Dave? Probably not — it just wasn't the way Finn's mind tended to work. He'd still have to be cautious, though. "So how are you enjoying fraternity life so far?"

Finn brightened. "It's the best! They kept telling us while we were rushing that we'd all be brothers, but I'm really starting to _feel_ it now, y'know?"

"Must be a good feeling."

"Yeah, it is."

"And the others... They're good people?"

"Yeah, mostly. I mean, there's a few assholes, but there always are, no matter where you go, right? The rest are real good guys, though. Puck, man, he's the best. He's probably my best friend after Dave. Mike is a nice guy too..."

"So..." Here was the key; he had to be as casual as possible. Fortunately, they'd had enough similar conversations in the past that Kurt thought he could manage it this time. "... You remember how I was discouraging you from pledging last year? Because I'd always heard fraternities were hives of testosterone poisoning and heteronormativity? You've found that's not true? They don't mind someone like me being your stepbrother and visiting and all?"

"Nah, no way," Finn said at once. "Our first day, they had this big presentation on what the Greek system is like these days: stuff like what they could and couldn't do to us pledges, what we could and couldn't do once we became members, things like that. They said it was because of some of the scandals at other colleges. Anyway, one of the speakers was this guy from Sigma Phi Beta, the gay fraternity. Think his name was Spencer, or something like that. You know him?"

"For the last time, Finn, I do not know every single gay person at OSU."

"Right, right, fine. But he talked about how fraternities are a lot more inclusive for gay people and minorities and all that." He regarded Kurt with a serious look. "If I hadn't heard them tell us that — or if I'd heard someone call us 'fags' or something — I would've walked right out and never looked back. I mean it, little brother. Family first, man. Family first."

Kurt nodded, impressing himself by how well he managed to hold back the tears. "I'm glad to see I've been a good influence on you."

"You have. Seriously, you have."

"I'm glad to hear it."

As Finn returned his attention to finishing up his french fries, Kurt managed to wrest his mind away from fraternal feelings back to Dave. He must have listened to that same presentation too, yet he still wasn't out? But again, hiding was still easier than testing the open mindedness of a bunch of teenage boys you'd never met before...

At least now he knew that the fraternity largely wouldn't be an obstacle in his plans. He'd already known Finn wouldn't be, but he could've very well been an island of rationality in the middle of a sea of bros. Now that he knew that wasn't the case, it was time to consider the next step, the one with the unoriginal name of Phase Two...

* * *

Kurt let a couple of tutoring sessions pass without a mention of anything but math before he implemented Phase Two. Timing, after all, was everything, on stage as well as in real life, and he needed to let Dave's emotions calm down before he began prodding again. Dave was more than happy to concentrate on academics and not say a word about his emotional flood.

"Yeah, yeah, sounds like you've got it." Dave nodded approvingly as Kurt shut his textbook. "I guess that's it for today. Let me know how the quiz goes." He rose to leave.

"Just a second. I'd like to ask you something." Dave obediently sat back down. "I don't think I've told you this before, but I've been attending some LGBT events on campus lately. There's one coming this Thursday night: just a semi-formal mixer where people can talk and relax and get to know one another." Kurt took a mental breath. "I was wondering if you wanted to go."

He could hear Dave inhale sharply. "Me? Go to a... gay thing?" His voice dropped to a whisper on the last two words.

"No one's going to out you if you go, Dave. It'll be a safe place. And there'll inevitably be a few straight people there, so if anyone sees you, you have an excuse. I was just thinking that you might want to, since you went to the bar and all..." What Kurt didn't say, of course, was that he felt this was an important step in Dave embracing his mathematics brilliance. He'd already shown less reluctance to talk about and deal with his sexuality, so maybe, just maybe, if he became more open in that regard, it'd be easier for him to be more open about the rest as well. He'd see that being himself wasn't a bad thing to be, and everything would follow naturally. Or so he hoped. "It would be a way for you to meet people like yourself, see that you're not alone in any of what you're feeling or what you've been through. It'll probably be a lot easier to do than at that bar, at any rate." Dave's face was blank, but Kurt could see he was biting his lower lip, almost hard enough to break the skin. "I'll come with you, if you want, as moral support. If anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable, I'll say that I got an emergency call from your roommate or something and yank you out at once. Like I said, I just thought you might want another chance to explore that side of yourself, since you'd already dipped your toes in the water, so to speak. It might be easier if you had someone with you who already knew the ropes." There was still no movement on the other side of the table; there hadn't been for the entire time Kurt was talking uninterrupted. He took a breath. "So. What do you think?"

It took a much shorter time than Kurt expected to get an answer — a good sign, as far as he was concerned. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Like I said, it's on Thursday at 7, so just let me know anytime before then."

That was Monday. Kurt got a text message from Dave at a little after noon on Thursday (which was, frankly, even sooner than Kurt had anticipated; he was fully prepared to wait until past seven):

 **\- okay lets go**

Kurt bounced up and down on his heels, right in the middle of the hall. In high school, this would've inevitably earned him at least a glare, but in the chaos of the college classroom hallway, nobody so much as even glanced in his direction — just one more sign that the wider world, the real world, was everything Kurt had hoped for.

They arranged to meet outside the Ohio Union, where the event was taking place. Kurt was right on time, and was not surprised that Dave wasn't there yet. Winter was slowly receding, but the air still crackled with chilliness. Kurt watched his breath's mist drift into the air as he waited. He supposed he could've waited inside, but that would just give Dave a reason to chicken out. A little cold never hurt anyone...

"Hey." Kurt turned as the shadows gave birth to Dave Karofsky. He was wearing a black OSU hoodie and jeans — definitely not formal, but Kurt had acquiesced to his preference to not dress up. No sense making him any more uncomfortable, or causing him to feel like he wasn't expressing his true self. That, after all, was the point of the whole exercise. He could barely see Dave's face through the shadows cast by the hood over his head, but he could see enough: the nerves in the twitching of his eyes, the rapid puffs of vapor from his heavy breathing.

"Dave! Great timing! Sounds like the party just got started." He cocked his head towards the door, towards the warm light casting over them; the muffled sounds of conversation came from the other side. "Ready?"

"No. But I'm going anyway. You were right; this is something I kinda have to do."

"Only if the pushing is coming from inside you and no one else," Kurt said gently, taking Dave's elbow and leading him towards the door. "Don't worry, I'll stick close by. It'll be fine. No, more than fine: it'll be fun." Dave didn't answer; he just stared as Kurt opened the door, the light and warmth hitting them both full in the face. "Come on, let's mingle."

As they crossed the lobby, it didn't escape Kurt's notice that Dave didn't lower his hood. Kurt reached up and yanked it down; Dave's hand flew up, as if to replace it.

"Dave, it's fine," Kurt said, and the hand immediately arrested itself. "You're fine. You can do this. You've already done it. There's nothing to be afraid of; these are our people. They already understand what you've been through, what you're still going through. If you learn nothing else tonight, I hope you learn that."

Dave stopped cold in front of the room where the mixer was taking place. He turned to Kurt. "I know you're right, I just... This is way more than I ever thought I'd do..."

"But you're here, doing it. Be proud of yourself, even if you chicken out right now."

Dave gave him a weak grin. "What, I can chicken out right now? That's an option?"

Kurt laughed. "Let's _go_ , David."

There was a good crowd: about twenty to thirty people of all types, races, and ages across the college spectrum. Dave froze once again as the door snapped shut behind them. "Can I..." He looked around the room, at the talking and laughing crowd. "Can I just have a second?"

"Of course. I'm going to get some punch. Want some?"

"Uh... Sure. I guess."

Kurt stepped over to one of the long refreshment tables, looking for familiar faces among the guests as he ladled out a couple of Dixie cups of rich red punch. Blaine had already told him that he couldn't make it, but Kurt thought he still recognized one or two people from some of his performing arts classes. Still, he didn't linger at the table long; Dave was starting to get a little antsy. So he returned to Dave's side and handed him a cup. He drained it in one gulp.

"Hi." The word was spoken in a completely normal tone at a completely normal volume, yet Dave still almost literally jumped, crushing the paper cup in his hand. The redheaded young man who spoke chuckled. "First time at an LGBT event?"

"Yes," Kurt jumped in. "He just needs a minute to get his sea legs."

"Completely understand. I was nervous as hell my first time too." He stuck out a hand. "I'm Alistair."

"Kurt." They shook. "And this is Dave."

"Hi," Dave managed to croak with a small nod.

"So you're a fellow OSU student?" Kurt asked.

"Actually, I'm a high school senior. My boyfriend goes here." He nodded towards a young man with buzz cut blonde hair talking an African-American girl on the other side of the room. "He just got me in for the free food."

"Mm, very thoughtful of him." Kurt dared a glance at Dave; he still looked stiff, but he didn't look like he was on the edge of making a break for it anymore. "Why don't we sit down? I don't know about you, but it's been a long week. Maybe you can tell us about what kind of other LGBT events have been going on lately."

"Sure!" He led them towards a couch and chair; Kurt only had to nudge Dave in the back once to get him to follow. "So are you two...?" His eyes flickered between the two.

"No!" Dave said much too quickly. "Oh, God, no. He's a friend."

Kurt tried not to be offended; was the idea of him being someone's lover really that absurd? But that was probably his interpretation, not Dave's, so he tried to push it into the back of his mind. Besides, it didn't escape Kurt that Dave used the word "friend" to describe him, even if it was probably inspired by a moment of panic. That had to mean he was on the right track, didn't it? "Right. I'm kind of his moral support."

"Oh, a wingman?" Alistair said with a grin that quickly vanished when Dave didn't return it. "I guess you're not out yet?"

Dave blinked before answering. "Uh... No. No, I'm not." He looked up at Alistair. "Y-you could tell...?"

"I guessed. Straight guys coming to these kinds of things are nervous, but they usually aren't as nervous as you." Kurt smothered a smirk. "And it's okay. I wasn't exactly out myself up to a year ago," Alistair said with a gentle smile. "It's all thanks to Spence." The name stirred a vague memory in Kurt, but he didn't care enough at the moment to concentrate on anything but the young man speaking. "He was the one who helped me and waited for me, and... It's awesome, man, being able to hold his hand in public and stuff."

"Don't you..." Dave swallowed. "Don't you get stared at, or...?" _Or worse?_ The words were unsaid, but Kurt heard them, loud and clear, and he had a feeling that Alistair did as well.

"Fuck, yeah, but not as often as I thought. Maybe because we live in Columbus, I dunno. But even when it does happen, yeah, it hurts, but it all goes away when Spence is with me. He just... He makes all the shit we get worthwhile, you know?"

"You're lucky," Dave said hoarsely. "You're lucky you have someone like that."

"Hey, it doesn't have to be a boyfriend. Even just a friend makes everything a hundred times easier to take. Just as long as you're not alone. That's what parties like this is all about." He made an expansive gesture to the men and women in the room around them. "Not being alone. I bet if you asked everyone in here for their story, you'd hear a lot of your own story in every single one of 'em." It was a familiar-sounding sentiment, but Dave visibly relaxed at it. Maybe hearing it repeated from someone else was helping to drive it home.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'm gonna be doing that anytime soon. Just being here is kinda freaking me out."

"One thing at a time. Baby steps, like my mom would say. But I think you just being here is huge."

Dave blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! It's pretty obvious you're as nervous as hell, but you're still here. That takes guts."

"I completely agree," Kurt said quietly.

"Um... Thanks."

"No problem. So what are you guys studying...?"

The rest of the evening passed in light, innocent chatter. Kurt was, of course, typically full of words, while Dave was much more reticent, but he managed to politely answer every single question thrown his way. Alistair's boyfriend dropped by once in a while, giving Kurt and Dave firm handshakes and Alistair a kiss on the cheek. Unique, the African-American trans girl he'd been talking to, pumped Kurt for information on the performing arts program. By the time the mixer broke up and everyone was heading home, both their phones had at least four new numbers in their contact list.

Kurt walked Dave back to the frat house on some flimsy pretext, but in all likelihood, they both knew exactly why. So, he went ahead and asked about halfway back, after a few minutes of walking in silence. "So what did you think?"

He heard Dave inhale. "My heart's still fucking pounding a little. I can't believe I did that."

"But you did. Between that, and going to that bar all by yourself, I think you've made some great progress. So you going to that dance Alistair mentioned?"

"Oh, hell, no. I do not dance. At all." Silence fell again. "But... I think maybe I want to check out that guest speaker talking about homeless gay youth. It sounds interesting."

The statement was casual in tone, but Kurt could hear the significance in it, even if Dave himself couldn't.

"That sounds... That sounds great, Dave."

And indeed it did. The aura of triumph and accomplishment carried Kurt all the way home, and all the way through the weekend.


	7. Chapter 7

"I want to watch." Kurt only realized how dirty that sounded when Dave began cracking up laughing. He immediately felt heat surge into his cheeks. "I didn't mean—! God, you've got such a dirty mind!"

"I was gonna say the same thing about you, fancypants!" Dave managed to gasp between fits of hysterics.

Kurt harrumphed, crossing his arms. "Maybe you're more the frat boy than I thought." He waited, not patiently, until Dave's laughter died down into chuckles. "I meant, watch you do math." That effectively killed the mirth on the other side of the table. "I'm curious what you actually do. I've never seen a genius at work. Well, except maybe in a mirror..."

"Shit, Kurt, don't call me that."

"What, genius?"

"Yeah."

"You've used that word yourself a few times in self-description."

"I know, but it just makes me feel... weird. Like I'm better than everyone else. And I'm not."

"But you _are_ better than almost everyone else — at math. Ignoring your strong points isn't humility, it's self-deprecation."

"You don't know how good I am. _I_ don't really know how good I am."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Somehow I think you have a better idea than that. Regardless, that's another reason I want to watch: I want to get an idea of what high level math looks like, even if I don't understand it." He hesitated, wondering if he should say the rest of what he was thinking. A wild impulse pushed it on. "And I want to see how it makes you feel when you do it, and why."

Dave snickered. "You're getting close to dirty again."

"And you're trying to deflect. It's not going to work, mister, not on me." Kurt folded his hands in front of him. "Seriously, no pressure. Just do whatever you would usually do with it, except with an audience. I promise, I won't interrupt or ask stupid questions."

"I still don't know if I get why you're so interested."

"Because you say you love math. I want to find out why. I certainly don't like it a lot, so I'd like to have a better idea of how you think."

There was a long silence. Finally, Dave sighed. "You're just going to nag me until I say yes, aren't you?"

Kurt raised an offended eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I do not 'nag'."

"Yeah? I've listened to Finn talk about living with you. Why don't we ask him together about that?"

"Because we already know what he'll say... if he knows what's good for him."

They both laughed at that, together. It felt good.

Dave finally said he'd think about it, and Kurt didn't bring it up again. He knew he'd have to tread carefully in this arena, but he really hoped he wouldn't have long to wait — and he didn't. After the next tutoring session ended, Dave began unpacking as Kurt was packing. He raised a curious eyebrow as Dave laid out a familiar looking notebook and folder. "I thought..." Dave cleared his throat, looking around; fortunately, they had their normal privacy. "I thought I could work on one of my projects. If you wanted to see what I do in my free time."

Kurt immediately sat bolt upright in his chair. "I'd like that," he said, trying to tamp down his excitement. "I'd like that a lot."

Dave's cheeks reddened slightly as he opened both notebook and folder. "I have four projects going on right now," he said, the speed of his words rising, his eyes glued onto the paper in front of him. "This one deals with ergodic theory; I haven't done a lot in arithmetic combinatorics lately, so I thought I'd—"

"You don't have to explain, Dave. I don't think I'd understand it anyway," Kurt said with a laugh. "Ignore me and do what you'd normally do. I'm not even here. Just... be you."

Dave nodded, slowly and reluctantly, then picked up his mechanical pencil. Kurt watched as he began writing down numbers and symbols onto a blank page in the notebook. His hand was jerky and hesitant at first; his eyes kept flickering up at Kurt before returning to the paper. Kurt had expected that, though, and waited patiently. It only took about ten minutes for the hesitancy to give way to flowing writing, for flickering eyes to stay laser focused onto the pages in front of him.

Kurt watched, fascinated, as the pencil danced across the page, scratching out numbers and symbols in formulas so arcane they might as well have been Hogwarts magic to him. But even that was nothing compared to the change in Dave himself. He was, for the lack of a better word, _intense_. Numbers flowed out of his mind through his hand like water, pausing only occasionally for thoughtful taps on the page before losing himself once more.

Dave was mostly silent, only interjecting a few words under his breath here and there, usually either numbers or curses: "Fuck, I almost missed..." or "Shit, then..." or "Oh, _hell_ , yeah..." Perhaps his frat boy persona wasn't _completely_ fake. Or else it had just been in place so long that it had leaked into the rest of Dave's life. He chose to believe the former; the latter was too depressing.

As Dave impatiently flipped to a new page so hard that the crackle of paper was like a gunshot in its sharpness, Kurt's mind compared the scene before him to someone playing the piano — or better, conducting an orchestra: he was watching virtuosity at work. Numbers were Dave's notes, graphs his staff, and he was playing the _hell_ out of them. It didn't matter that, unlike music, he couldn't appreciate the results: talent recognizes talent, he always said, no matter what the form. Thus he knew exactly what was going on with Dave: the library — perhaps even the rest of Ohio — had ceased to exist. He was in his own little bubble of numerical contentment. He was in his element.

He was, for the first time in Kurt's sight, _Dave_. And it was fascinating.

For over half an hour, Kurt watched in rapt attention bordering on awe as the notebook pages filled, hearing each intake of breath at a new insight, or relieved exhale as a long formula finally finished. There were no smiles on Dave's face, no declarations aloud of how good he felt; he was lost completely in a world of 7's and k's, blazing his own paths through them like a colonial cartographer. That, Kurt couldn't help but think, was the best expression of joy he could ever see.

It was only when Dave's cell phone went off, jumping across the table, that he snapped out of it. Kurt silently cursed the interruption as Dave looked at the screen. "Finn," he said; Kurt's mind filled with images of him bitchslapping Finn on the back of his head. He could hear his stepbrother yowl and ask what the fuck that was for, and Kurt just saying that he deserved it, without further explanation. There was a 50/50 shot of the fantasy becoming reality in the near future. It took even more effort than usual to force the scowl off his face before Dave looked up from the quick text he sent in response. "I should go." He began gathering up his work, then paused. He looked up at Kurt. "Well?"

"Well what? What did I think?"

"... Yeah."

"If you want my honest opinion... I think what I saw was beautiful."

Dave grimaced. "Don't make fun of me, Kurt."

"I'm not." Kurt cocked his head and tried to look as sincere as he could (difficult, since he didn't even know what sincerity looked like). "I know you've been mocked for what you can do, but please, at least do me the courtesy of not lumping me in with whatever Neanderthals and harpies did that to you. I think there really was a lot of beauty in your skills at math, even if I can't understand any of it." He hesitated, wondering whether there was a better way to put what he wanted to say. _Oh, hell with it. Dave's ego could use a little boosting anyway_. "If nothing else, I thought that the obvious joy it brought you was beautiful." Dave ducked his head, his cheeks already turning red. "So why do you like it so much? Besides being so good at it? Or maybe it's _because_ you're so good at it...?"

"That's part of it, but it's not just that. Numbers... they just make _sense_ , you know? They're black and white, right or wrong. One plus one is always two."

"Unless it's one point infinite nines."

Dave snickered. "Hey, you know that one! And you said you didn't like math!"

"That's Professor Schuester's fault, actually. He brought it up last term during one of his classes. I _still_ don't get it, honestly."

"Anyway, seriously, I think that's what I find so relaxing about math: it's logical. There's nothing to interpret, and it's usually pretty stable. It's approachable. It makes sense." He paused. "Unlike most people."

Kurt nodded, a bit of that sadness creeping back in. "I think I see. It's comforting to you."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"So when did you first figure out that you were... well, special?"

Dave was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. Was he searching his memories, or was he reluctant to answer the question? Did it matter? "I think it was all the way back in kindergarten. Remember when I said I used to borrow my older brother's math books? I sort of did that before I started school. I mean, I couldn't read most of it, but obviously, I understood the numbers, and sometimes my brother would sort of have me follow along with his homework. I think he did it mostly to relieve boredom, but my mom also thought it was 'cute' that I was so interested. Jack was a shit teacher, of course, but on some level, I just _got_ it. I got the basic ideas and the concepts, and it was so _easy_. It wasn't until I got to kindergarten, and I saw the other kids having to actually think about addition when I was already doing multiplication and division, that I realized that it wasn't that easy for everybody. At first, I thought it was pretty cool that I could get my homework done in no time and get happy face stickers on all my math problems, but then..." He shrugged with exaggerated casualness. "You know the rest."

"They took the pride from you," Kurt said, feeling unreasonably angry at a bunch of children he didn't even know. "But even they couldn't take away the joy. Because I saw it myself."

"Ugh... 'Joy'. That's twice you've used that word."

"Why, what's wrong with it? Too fruity for you?" That got a little bit of a smile out of Dave. "I used it because there was no other word I could think of to describe it. It's what I feel when I get up on stage. That's you when you do math."

Dave shrugged. "It's relaxing. Math has gotten me through some pretty shitty times, especially that year I figured out I was gay."

"I can't believe you got through your entire childhood keeping this a secret."

"Ehh, it was easy. Honestly, I'm kinda embarrassed by it."

Kurt glowered — not at Dave, but at those faceless brats who tried to smother this wonderful talent. "Because you were teased about it."

"I guess, but not completely. I dunno. I kinda feel like... What's it called when someone is a genius in one really specific thing, but a total moron in everything else?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "An idiot savant?"

"Yeah. That. I feel like an idiot savant sometimes."

"Well, I feel like you need more self esteem."

Dave shrugged again. "Sometimes I don't see the point of me being this good with math," he said, completely failing to respond to Kurt's basic point — that had to be significant somehow, right? "I mean, why me? Isn't there some kid in New York or China who could do a ton more with it than me?"

"Number one, you're already doing a lot more with it than some people," Kurt said. "Number two, the only person preventing you from doing 'a ton' with it is you."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Dave asked, anger creeping into his voice.

"I didn't say that. I'm saying that I think you have more control over your life than you seem to believe."

"Yeah, and I'm the one who'll have to deal with whatever decision I make. Not you."

"That's true," Kurt admitted. "But you don't seem to think you're brave enough to do that."

"Brave?" Dave snorted. "I already told you I'm a coward. I've been hiding like a little bitch since second grade. That really sound brave to you?"

"You kept going with mathematics when you could've abandoned it entirely out of shame, even if you didn't tell anyone. You went to an LGBT event even though you were afraid of being seen. That really sound cowardly to you?"

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth, then tried again. Still nothing, except a jerky rasp from his throat. One more try, and he finally succeeded. "What, you think you know me and my life? A few months ago, you didn't even know my name."

"That's true." A smile slowly blossomed on Kurt's face. "In fact, that gives me a marvelous idea!"

"Oh, god, what did I do?" Dave whispered in horror.

* * *

"Bowling?" The crash of pins nearly drowned out the word, but not enough.

"Bowling." Kurt strode up to the counter. "Two, please."

"Lane eight," the bored man behind the counter said. "Need shoes?"

"Yes. Unfortunately." Kurt wrinkled his nose as the man shoved a pair of rental shoes across the counter; he picked them up using as little surface area on his fingers as possible. "So what size do you wear, Dave?"

"Um..." He approached the counter and stood next to Kurt. "What the hell are we doing here, anyway?"

"Bowling," Kurt repeated, giving him a "were you paying attention at all?" glance. "Now are you just going to stand there, or are you going to get your shoes?"

"Uh..." It looked for a moment like Dave couldn't genuinely decide, until he finally got his shoes from the impatient counter guy. As the two tromped up to lane eight, Dave burst out, "You know what I meant."

"By what?" Kurt asked casually, slipping on his rental shoes and thanking all the deities above that he was wearing one of his older pairs of socks.

"I fucking know we're bowling," Dave said as he wrenched his shoes off his feet, leaving Kurt glad he was sitting far enough away to be away from any... scents. "What I want to know is _why_."

"Why not?" It didn't escape Kurt how coy he was being, and how irritated Dave was getting, but after having spent months talking to this guy, his instincts told him that this was just the way to get past those defenses he'd built up over the past decade. Bait him, get him interested, keep him from being locked in his own head...

Dave groaned. "Stop playing dumb, goddammit. Why would you invite me to go bowling?"

"Well, why would you accept? Maybe that should tell you something about listening to what you want."

Dave growled in frustration. "You—! You keep answering my goddamn questions with either non-answers or more questions! I accepted because you dropped this on me and I was so confused I didn't have a chance to think!"

"So you say," Kurt said with a shrug. He went to the bowling ball racks and experimentally lifted a couple before he settled on one with a nice art deco-style motif, much more interesting than he usually found at places like this. "I don't see why you're so worked up about this." Actually, he did, but again, bait him, make him confront what he was feeling instead of running from it.

"Because it doesn't make fucking sense! Why the hell would you want to do this?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because—!" Dave stepped in front of Kurt; he loomed in his frustration, shadow falling over Kurt's face. Kurt couldn't suppress a brief thrill of fear. "Because there's no reason you should want to hang out with me!"

"None at all?" Kurt asked, his voice soft in contrast with Dave's snarling. "Don't you think you're good enough to have friends?"

"But that's just it! We're totally fucking different people! We have, like, nothing in common!"

"We have a few things in common," Kurt pointed out, "more than me and Finn." Dave stopped cold at that reminder. "And while we may not be friends yet, we're certainly much more than strangers or acquaintances at this point, don't you think? Given that, I'd like to get to know you better. And before you ask me why," he quickly added, shutting Dave's opening mouth, "it's because you're an interesting and decent person, and you and I both know there are too few of those in the world. We may have been thrown together by chance, but I never let an opportunity pass me by. Look at it this way: the better I know you, the better I know your limits, so I don't accidentally push you too hard." A thoughtful look came over Dave's face at this, encouraging Kurt to continue. "If you're afraid to be seen with me..."

"No!" Dave said at once, eyes widening. That reaction, almost instant, would occur to Kurt again later.

"It's okay if you are," Kurt said reassuringly. "But I wouldn't worry about it. Look around you." Dave did; there was laughter, shouts of triumph, screeches of dismay as balls rolled into gutters, but no eyes on them. "Even if someone we know did notice us, it doesn't mean anything. Nobody thinks any less of Finn, and he's my stepbrother." He reached out, gently touching Dave's left upper arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "Look, Dave, there's been a lot of tension in our... association together, for obvious reasons. I just thought it might be easier for both of us if we could actually relax around each other. Who knows, we actually end up having fun in the bargain, and we'd both get something out of this besides math. What do you think?"

Dave was a stone statue, still looming over him, but Kurt was no longer afraid, so he too didn't move. Finally, Dave's shoulders slumped. He nodded, and went to the ball rack. "Will you at least let me go first?"

Kurt bit back a smile. "Of course."

As it turned out, Kurt was a little shakier on this whole bowling thing than he'd anticipated, and Dave was a predictably poor winner. "Hey, good work, Hummel," he sneered. "You almost broke into triple digits that game!"

"Bite me," Kurt grumbled as he replaced his ball and finally, _finally_ got out of those awful rental shoes.

"Hey, this was your brilliant idea. But it was nice; I haven't bowled since high school, so I was really rusty." Dave grinned toothily.

"Shut up. Next time, I'm picking something not competitive, if this is the way you're going to act."

The good humor immediately shattered from Dave's face, replaced by shock. "Next... time?"

"Of course. Despite your grandstanding, I had a good enough time. And I've learned a few things about you... Apart from your being an arrogant jerkass when you're winning. That I already expected."

"Oh, yeah?" Dave asked with a hint of a grin back on his lips. "Like what?"

"Well, you surprised me a little when you helped that woman with the crutches..."

Dave flushed. "Yeah? I call that being a decent fucking human being." He turned away a little; his profile was stark against the harsh overhead lights. "I wasn't one for a long time."

"So you're trying to make up for it. That's a lot more than some people do."

"Just be glad you didn't know me back in high school. You would've hated my fucking guts."

"I have a feeling I wouldn't have hated you nearly as much as you hate yourself now." Kurt tried to make his voice as gentle as he could, but even then, Dave still visibly shuddered. "That was then. This is now. You're trying, and that deserves a lot more credit than you seem to think. I think that makes you a person worth knowing. Thus... bowling." Kurt grimaced. "This time. I was going to suggest karaoke, but I didn't want to scare you off."

It took visible effort, but Dave actually laughed. "Oh, so _you_ can be the 'arrogant jerkass', right?" he said, complete with finger quotes.

"I am not 'arrogant'! I'm self-confident and secure in my talents!"

"Sounds like an arrogant jerkass to me."

"Just for that, _next time_ , if we do anything competitive, you get a massive handicap. We'll see how much you're laughing then!"

Dave snickered. "Okay, fine, I guess that'd be fair. Or more fair, anyway."

"You'll rue those words, Karofsky."

"Make me."

Despite the jocular tone in which those words were said, Kurt could hear the probing challenge in them. So he said the only thing he could say:

"I will."

* * *

"I haven't had the chance to engage in much activism," Kurt said as Dave opened the door to the Multicultural Center for him, "but I've been eager to change that ever since I came here."

"Sounds like something I want to do someday, but not yet." Dave sighed. "Not 'til I actually get the guts to... Shit, I can't even say it without panicking a little."

"You're not a coward, Dave," Kurt said almost automatically. "Everyone's lives are different. Just because I was out so early doesn't mean that you're somehow defective for not being out. Besides, you're coming with me to this meeting, aren't you? Even if you don't end up volunteering, you're showing your support in your own way. That's not nothing."

"If you say so."

"I do."

There was enough of a crowd present to warm both the room with body heat and Kurt's heart with hope for the future. How could he have ever thought, even for a moment, that the toxic atmosphere of high school was all he'd ever face? But then, that was easy to think while you were steeped in it. To be able to breathe clearly, even for a little while, was the greatest blessing he could ever imagine. He could only think that Dave felt much the same way, if his stories of his smothering in Lima were any indication.

"Hey!" Spencer Porter emerged from the crowd, shaking both their hands in turn. "Glad you guys could make it."

"Glad to be here," Kurt said. "Good crowd."

"Yeah, it is! Since I'm just a freshman, I'm not very high up on the totem pole, but I'm still helping to organize this drive, so I'm really grateful that you two showed up. The more the better." He nodded towards Dave. "Hey."

"Hey." Kurt had to actively keep himself from rolling his eyes; it was almost incomprehensible that gay men could still be such... such _bros_. "Am I the only one here from my frat?"

"Yeah, so far. In fact, I think the only Greek guys here are from mine." Dave visibly relaxed. "Like I told you before, I'm probably not going to invite the other frats until later in the year. Besides, if any of them actually do show up, at least you'll know they'd be cool with you, right?"

"That's what Kurt said. I think you're both right."

"He did, huh?" Spencer gave Kurt an odd look. "Anyway, I got work to do. See you guys around. Thanks again for coming."

"See you." They watched Spencer vanish into the crowd. "Hey, Kurt... You think you're going to volunteer for anything?"

"Maybe. It depends on the scheduling. I have even less free time than I had last term, and I didn't think that was possible. What about you?"

"I... I don't know. I mean, I know straight guys care about this kind of thing too, but if I wasn't out... I'd feel kinda... kinda _phony_ , you know?"

 _What do you think you're being with math?_ Kurt wanted to ask, but shoved it back before he could. "I understand," he said instead, because that at least was true. "But maybe interacting with other people who care about us, gay and straight, will help."

"Maybe. I'm just glad they'll be strangers, because if I saw anyone I knew, I'd probably—" He never finished the sentence, but he didn't need to. His sudden whiteness was finish enough. Silently cursing the gods of chaos, Kurt slowly turned to see who Dave had seen that he obviously knew.

Rachel was entering the room, with Finn in tow. Kurt felt a little hope, but not as much as he'd expected. After all, it was one thing when a family member was gay, especially when you always "knew"; it could be quite another when it was a new friend whom you _thought_ you knew... Kurt was pretty sure Finn wouldn't react badly, but he was only pretty sure; he couldn't help feel guilty about that.

Fortunately, neither of the two was given much time to panic or stew; Rachel saw Kurt almost at once. She waved and dragged Finn towards them before anyone could react. "Kurt!" She hugged him; he gamely returned the hug as best he could. "Is Blaine here already?"

"I haven't seen him yet, but he said he would be." Kurt tried to peek at Finn and Dave out of the corner of his eye as best he could; the two were staring at each other. Dave's lower lip was trembling, his hands balled into fists, while Finn was just gaping like a dead fish.

"So, uh..." Finn said, "you two... know each other?"

Ah. Of course. There was an aspect of this discovery Kurt hadn't considered. "Not very well, but yes," he managed to say. "He's been... helping me out with something. And I have too. About something he knew about himself." Dave winced, but the cat was mostly out of the bag anyway at this point; even if Dave could've waved off his own presence to Finn, his being with Kurt was a dead giveaway. He just mentally crossed his fingers and hoped that he was right about his stepbrother...

"Oh. I see." Finn met Dave's eyes strongly, steadily. "Mind if we talk a little, dude?" He then reached out and gripped Dave's shoulder. The gesture could've been threatening or comforting, but from Dave's reaction, it was clearly the latter. He let out the breath he was holding.

"Go on, Dave." Kurt rubbed Dave's arm right under Finn's hand encouragingly. Dave looked over at him, his eyes moist, unspoken words plainly on his lips. Instead of speaking, he just nodded, then he and Finn retreated to a quiet corner of the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, Kurt turned to Rachel. "What's he doing here?" he hissed in an angrier tone than he'd intended.

Rachel blinked. "I thought he could use a little more education, given that I have two fathers. He speaks very highly of you all the time, but it can be different when it's family." Kurt's spine shuddered at the implications of Rachel having shared similar thoughts as he. "He'd also told me about Dave, but I didn't think..."

"Neither did I, at first," he admitted.

The two glanced over at the corner where Finn and Dave were deep in conversation. "I think they'll be okay, don't you?"

Kurt exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He turned back to her. "So you're actually considering introducing Finn to your fathers?"

Rachel brightened. "Yes! At least, I think it's inevitable by this point. Speaking of which, I heard you talked to Chandler recently! What do you think?"

"I did. I'm sorry, Rachel, but I don't think I'm interested right now. Besides the fact that I have absolutely no time for dating, we're... too much alike, you know? I think I'm more inclined towards someone who'll complement me, but is a little more different from me. I just think it's more interesting that way."

"I see. So what are you looking for in a match?" Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not going to start shoving blind dates at you! I just want to know so if I do encounter a potential boyfriend, I'll know whether to bother to bring him to you or not."

Kurt hesitated, unsure if he wanted to follow through on this line of conversation. _Oh, hell with it. What can it hurt?_ As long as Rachel didn't ask any specifics about the kind of guy he'd had crushes on before... He glanced towards Finn and winced. "Okay, fine..."

Little did he know, at least then, the convergence his conversation and his stepbrother's were taking.

 _"Seriously man, it's cool. I've... I've learned a lot from Kurt."_

 _"So have I."_

 _"He taught me a lot about gay guys, and... I swear, I won't tell anyone. And you're still my friend. Even if I don't understand everything about gays, I think I understand enough. If you ever wanna talk to someone about it... I mean, a lot of what I'll say is just stuff Kurt's told me, but if you need it..."_

 _"I... Thanks, dude. That... that really means a lot, you know? That you care..."_

 _"You kidding? Of course I care. It's no problem. Seriously. But is this why you've been acting kinda off lately?"_

 _"I... guess."_

 _"So what are you here for, anyway? Looking for a guy?"_

 _"Shut the fuck up! I am not! I'm not even out yet; what the hell would I be trolling for a guy for?"_

 _"But you want to, right? What kinda guy you looking for?"_

"Someone... strong, I guess, inside and out. I mean, physical strength is great for aesthetics, but I'd really like someone who has inner strength too."

 _"Oh, geez, I dunno... Someone who'll be patient with my bullshit, for sure. Someone who actually cares about other people."_

"Someone who has a lot to offer to the world, and wants to share it. That's what I want to do, so I suppose I'm looking for someone who'll at least understand it, even if he doesn't march lockstep right alongside me."

 _"Someone beautiful... Someone who knows what he wants and how he's gonna get it... Ambitious, I guess. I like that. I respect that."_

"I'd love him to be talented in some way, I suppose, like I am. Not necessarily in the same way, but someone..."

"Special?"

"That's a good word for it. Just someone who's not part of the crowd somehow. I stand out, so I'd love to have a partner who does so as well."

 _"Someone who appreciates romance like I do, I guess... Stop smirking, Hudson, so I'm a softie, sue me. Someone who's loyal... but_ _ _strong enough to fucking demand the respect he deserves._ "_

"He'd have to be intelligent, of course. Someone capable of deep compassion and empathy."

 _"Someone who wants to grow old with me. Who knows who I am and likes that guy."_

"That sounds lovely."

"I suppose. But..."

 _"Where'd I find someone like that? At least someone like that who's interested in me?"_

"I don't think I'll be finding anyone like that anytime soon."

"Maybe you will. Or you have, and just don't know it."

"I hope so. I really do."


	8. Chapter 8

"So you hit the puck into the net? That's all?"

Dave skidded to a stop in the middle of the ice. He looked over at Kurt, his annoyed frown plain even through the plexiglass. "Well, yeah... Unless you count the guy in front of the net trying to keep the puck out, not to mention the entire other team trying to fuck your shit up. Hockey takes a helluva lot of skill, y'know."

"Okay," Kurt said with a shrug, "I can see it. I suppose."

The rink was empty; Dave's hockey teammates and coach had long ago left. Somehow, even as a freshman, Dave had enough trust with his coach that he was allowed to linger after practice, giving him the opportunity to betray that trust and let Kurt in. So far, Kurt couldn't see the big deal, though that wasn't surprising, considering his opinion of sports in general. But he did recognize that Dave was quite skilled on the ice, at least. If only he could've turned that skill towards something more aesthetically pleasing, like figure skating...

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to see what I liked doing. You could at least _try_ to take it seriously."

"You're absolutely right. So what _do_ you appreciate about hockey?"

Dave tapped his stick on his shoulder as he skated large lazy loops. "I like the way I can move on the ice, you know? It's not like running, or any other way I can think of. I mean, I'm not exactly the fastest or most coordinated guy on Earth..."

"Oh, you should see Finn try to dance sometime," Kurt said with a smirk. "You'd never feel uncoordinated ever again."

"Hah! I'm in his fraternity, remember? I know exactly what you're talking about! Anyway, I feel like someone... I dunno, _better_ when I'm on the ice."

"Maybe when you're playing, you're closer to being who you are and who you want to be," Kurt suggested mildly. Dave stared at him, then shrugged, saying nothing as he went back to his skating. Nevertheless, Kurt felt pretty confident about his decision to press. "Do you like hockey as much as mathematics?"

"Um... I dunno. Probably not, but it's not a really huge difference."

"So why aren't you this open about everything you love?"

Dave snorted. "Because sports are actually popular, duh. I mean, look at me; people _expect_ me to play sports. They don't expect me to know about eigenvalues in diagonalizable matrices."

"There we go again with expectations. I understand why you take them seriously, but I still think you could stand to do it less."

"What, like you weren't surprised to find out what I could do with math?"

Kurt felt something in his gut drop. It took him a few seconds to say, "You're right. I should've been the last person to fall into that kind of trap. I'm sorry."

Dave stared at him again for a moment. "No problem," he finally said. "It's not a big deal; I mean, I've been working over half my life so people _would_ be surprised that I could do math, right? Anyway, it's not like I've done much for you to earn anything from you."

Kurt hesitated before he spoke, conjuring and abandoning dozens of different responses before saying, "It's true that respect has to be earned, but that doesn't mean I should've been making assumptions about you, no matter how you were acting. Besides... you've done more for me than you think."

"Like what?" Dave asked with obvious surprise.

"Well, even ignoring the tutoring, you've shown me a world I never thought about before: the world of high level academia. You've taught me how broad people can be. And..." Kurt smiled. "You've actually treated me with more decency than half the people I've known. That's not a little thing these days; you know that."

Dave didn't respond. Instead, he turned away, smacking a puck clear across the rink, watching it carom off the opposite wall. Kurt watched as Dave silently chased the puck, then hit it again, and again, and again, the ricochets leaving black streaks in Kurt's eyes all across the clean ice. Finally, his shoulders heaving in heavy breaths, Dave turned to him and said, "Yeah. I know that. For too fucking long I was part of the problem."

Kurt waited for Dave to expand on that tantalizing hint, but he didn't; he merely circled the now still puck, tapping on it gently from every side. It looked like it would be up to him again... "I didn't have an easy time in high school, as you can imagine," he said quietly. "Those who stand out in an unacceptable way never do. Finn tried to defend me, bless his heart, but there was only so much he could do, and he couldn't be around all the time."

"I'm glad you didn't let it get you down, though. I'm glad you didn't let those fuckheads screw with your head like I did."

Kurt had a lot he wanted to say to _that_ , even as he was a little startled at the sincerity he was hearing. For now, though, he contented himself with replying, "It helped that I wasn't alone. I had friends, I had my family, including Finn." Girding his courage, he managed to say, "Did you know I had a crush on him?"

Dave stopped cold. "No fucking way," he said with a smirk.

"What, you telling me he does absolutely nothing for you?"

"I didn't say that, but I'm not his fucking stepbrother!"

"This was before his mom and my dad got married, okay? In fact..." Once again, he hesitated — but then, he was expecting Dave to open up to him, right? How could he insist on that and do nothing in return, even if it gave Dave something to hang over his head for as long as they continued to know each other? _Bite the bullet, Hummel._ "I sort of might have had something to do with my dad and stepmother meeting because of that crush."

Dave's eyes widened in a mix of horror and delight. "You mean...?"

Kurt grimaced. "Unfortunately, yes." Dave actually cackled; not even the glare Kurt shot him in return could wipe the silly smile off his face. "Finn didn't react very well. Part of it was my fault, but part of it was that he had pretty mainstream beliefs about homosexuality then."

"Really? Finn?"

"Believe it or not, it's true. I like to think that I had an impact on him, but whatever the case, he's a lot better about those kinds of things now."

Dave nodded. "You're a good influence, huh?"

There was much less jocularity in the question than Kurt would've expected. In fact, searching Dave's face now, he could find not a hint of humor in it. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. "Hopefully," he said carefully. "But my point is, as much as people can be sons of bitches, and I have personal experience with that, they can also surprise you with their capacity for understanding. You saw that at the LGBT meeting with Finn, I think." Dave nodded again. "People can surprise you for the better."

"What is this, another 'I gotta be me' lesson?"

"I'm just saying that I don't think being you is such a bad thing to be. If it were, I would've stopped hanging around you long ago."

Dave's voice turned downtrodden. "That's just because you didn't know me before." Kurt held his breath; he felt like he, like Dave, was on the precipice of _something_ — perhaps Kurt's openness was having its desired effect? "I was the kind of guy who made your life a living hell in high school, remember? I was one of _them_. You know what I did? Exactly what I did?" Kurt shook his head dumbly; in retrospect, he should've told Dave not to go on, but at the time, he didn't — couldn't — think of that. "I pushed kids around. Called 'em names. Shoved 'em into lockers. Even Slushied them."

"Slushied?"

Dave grimaced. "It was this thing at my high school. They had a Slushie machine in the cafeteria. The popular guys would get some and throw 'em at people they didn't like."

Kurt couldn't suppress a gasp of horror. "That's terrible!"

"Yeah. It was. And I laughed at those kids I Slushied, just as hard as my friends. At least on the outside. But on the inside..."

"You knew," Kurt said quietly. "You knew on some level that you were more like your victims than you were like your friends."

Dave nodded miserably. "I told you before, the only reason I stopped was because I realized I was gay. I'd seen all the movies and stuff about gay bashing and suicides and all that, and it always kinda hit me right here..." He tapped his chest, over his heart. "But I didn't really know why until I figured it all out. It hit me just how much it could've been me — it could've been me who was getting all the teasing and the bullying... Fuck, it _was_ me for a while. I remembered how bad I felt then, and here I was, doing the same thing I hated. Between that and the whole gay thing, there were a few days where I think I was kinda close to..." He shuddered; Kurt felt himself do the same.

"Oh, Dave..."

Dave shook his head. "Don't waste your pity on me. In fact, it was probably the best thing that could've happened to me. It woke me the fuck up. I stopped all the shit, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I even had to teach a little lesson to some of my ex-friends. They called me a fag, but I didn't care, mostly because I knew they didn't _really_ suspect. I pulled my grades up — not too much, but enough — and got into OSU."

"Yet even after all that, you continued to hide your mathematical skills."

"Just because I stopped doing crazy shit to be accepted didn't mean that I didn't still want it. Like I said, it was just easier to meet expectations when nobody had any for me." He smiled a smile devoid of humor. "I do my best work flying under the radar."

"But you could fly higher. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Not enough."

"Okay, then," Kurt said, leaning forward and almost smashing his nose against the plexiglass before he managed to stop himself. "You enjoy hockey, right? Think about how you feel when you're playing."

"Okay..."

"What if you could feel that way all the time? Or more often, anyway? Isn't that worth something? I think you deserve to be happy." Kurt thought for a moment. "Don't you?"

Dave responded by hitting the puck so hard that it rocketed to the other side of the rink; the crack as it bounced seemed to echo. "What kind of question is that?"

"One you didn't answer."

Kurt wouldn't have been at all surprised if Dave had kept silent at that point, or tried to change the subject. But to his mild surprise, he actually said, "You think I've done anything to deserve it?"

"You know I do. I've told you as much."

"Man, fancypants," Dave said with a small grin (even as his use of the old nickname warned Kurt about Dave's further intent to deflect), "you act all snooty and superior, but you're really just a big softie, aren't you?"

Kurt coughed. "I... I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that. Or react, for that matter."

"Now you know how I feel."

"It's not surprising. Does anyone else know this much about you? The real you?"

Dave was silent for a long moment before he said, "No."

"But slowly, more people are finding out more about you. You're opening up, to me and to others. Has it been that bad so far?"

Another pause. "No. Not yet."

"I can't always promise it'll go so smoothly, but are you sorry? That Finn knows you're gay? That you have someone, anyone, to talk to about your love of math?" This time, Dave didn't answer, instead skating over to retrieve his puck. But somehow, Kurt had the feeling they both knew the answer to that question. "I know you did some bad things in the past, Dave, but I think we all have, and you, at least, seem to regret it and are trying to make up for it. Is the person you were then any more the real you than the frat boy I first met?" Dave shook his head, but his eyes didn't meet Kurt's. "Then I'm really grateful that I've seen the real you, no matter how hard it was for you, and I think that man is a lot better than any of the fake ones. I know you're scared, but can you at least agree with me on that?"

Once again, there was no answer. There was none when Dave finally shepherded Kurt out of the rink. There was none when they separated to go to their respective beds. There was none when Kurt's eyes finally closed out of exhaustion.

* * *

"Okay, best behavior, guys! I don't need my parents giving me grief!"

"Whatever!" someone's voice called out from another room of the frat house. Finn ignored him, whoever he was, and turned to Kurt.

"So how do I look?"

Kurt frowned. "I'm glad you asked, because I can tell you didn't bother to iron that shirt."

"But it's clean!"

"That's only _part_ of the equation, Finn! Can't you _see_ how slovenly it makes you look?"

"You can hardly tell!"

"I _so_ can tell, and your mother's going to point that out first thing, so I suggest you go upstairs and either iron that shirt or find something you can wear that doesn't look like it's been balled up at the bottom of a drawer for the past month!"

Finn sighed. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am. When it comes to clothes, I'm always right."

"You'll tell Mom and Burt to wait if they get here before I'm done, right?"

"No, Finn, we'll go to go to dinner without you."

"Heh, okay, thanks." Finn trotted upstairs. Kurt watched him disappear, shaking his head affectionately. Just a few years, and it already felt like they'd been related their whole lives. Funny how families could work.

Kurt had just sat down to wait when the door creaked open. He got to his feet again, but it wasn't his parents — it was Dave, backpack slung over his shoulder. "Oh, hey, Kurt. Here to see Finn?"

"Sort of. Our parents are visiting; this is the first time they've come to campus to see us. They're meeting us here, and we're all going to go to dinner together."

"Oh. Cool." There was a sudden lull in the conversation. "Look, Kurt..." Dave looked around for other ears or eyes; he apparently didn't sense any, because he turned back and said, in a low voice, "I've kinda been thinking... about what you suggested the last tutoring session..."

Kurt's ears perked. He'd made the suggestion fairly casually, just to get the idea out into the open. That Dave was actually thinking about it... "Yes?"

"I don't know if I can do it yet. But at the same time, I can't stop thinking about it, imagining what it'd be like..."

"I think that says something, don't you? In fact..." Kurt stood. "Why don't you stick around and meet my parents?"

The implications quickly sunk in. Dave's eyes widened. "You mean—?"

"No pressure. If you just want to say hello, you can; Finn's been talking so much about you that it'll seem perfectly natural. But if you feel like you want to take my suggestion, this would be a great time."

Dave began fidgeting. "Won't they tell Finn, though?"

"They might, but they might not. Even if they do, Finn already knows one big thing about you. Is this other thing really that much worse?"

The door flew open, causing both of them to literally jump. One of the fraternity members, whom Kurt didn't recognize, breezed in, slamming the door behind him and striding between them without a word, climbing the stairs two at a time. Dave only spoke again once he was gone. "I just... You're the only one who knows everything, and it took me forever to trust you and not freak out about it."

The significance of that trust did not escape Kurt — far from it. "It's up to you, Dave. I won't judge you if you don't, I really won't. But like I told you, I really do think you'll be pleasantly surprised by what happens when you are more open and more you: both with others and inside yourself."

There was a knock on the door; Dave whirled around towards it. "That's gotta be your parents, because there's no way any of the guys would knock."

"So are you...?"

Dave didn't answer. He instead took a deep inhale, so deep that Kurt could see Dave's chest move his shirt. He opened the door.

"Kurt!" Carole waved cheerfully to him from the porch.

"Hey, son!"

"Hi, Dad!" Kurt stepped forward, passing by the stiff-as-a-board Dave and giving them both a hug. "How was the drive?"

"It was just fine," Carole said. "It was actually kind of relaxing."

"Oh, this is Finn's friend, Dave!" Kurt clapped a hand on Dave's back; even though the gesture had no force behind it whatsoever, Dave actually stumbled forward a step.

"So you're Dave! I'm Carole Hudson-Hummel."

"Nice to meet you," Dave said through a sticky tongue, shaking Carole's hand.

"Finn's told us so much about you; it's nice to finally meet you!"

"Good things, I hope," Dave said with a weak smile.

"I'm Burt Hummel, Kurt's dad." Burt gave a small, probably unconscious nod in approval at Dave's handshake; Kurt remembered his dad always saying that he judged a man by his shake. "So where is Finn, anyway?"

"He's upstairs changing shirts; I told him the one he was wearing was too wrinkled." Kurt glanced at his phone. "That was a while ago. He's taking his own sweet time."

"Finn can be a little indecisive sometimes; you know that." Carole turned to Dave. "So you pledged the fraternity the same time as Finn?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, call me Carole. I hate 'ma'am'; it makes me feel so old. Besides, we hear so much about you from Finn that it almost feels like I already know you!" It was then that Carole, to Kurt's infinite gratitude, asked the question. It wasn't a significant event to her; it was a perfectly natural question that had a high chance to come up in any round of small talk between parents and college students. But to Kurt, and to Dave, it was a milestone. "So what are you studying? I think that's about the only thing Finn hasn't mentioned yet."

Dave drew in a breath. Burt and Carole waited politely for a response, but that moment seemed to suspend itself, draw itself out, into a startling landscape of possible futures blurring through Kurt's mind. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, but was really seconds, the landscape collapsed into a single path. "Well, I'm majoring in phys ed..." He went on before Kurt had time to feel any disappointment. "... But I'm doing high level mathematics in my spare time."

"Really!" There was a touch of surprise in Carole's voice, but it was of a perfectly normal level when hearing of interests that were somewhat uncommon.

"Yeah." Was that a tremor in Dave's voice just then? If so, neither of Kurt's parents seemed to notice it, and Dave didn't dwell on it. "A bunch of different stuff — theoretical, mostly, but if I read something in the American Mathematical Society journals that sounds interesting, I try to make time for that too."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Carole said. "I never had much of a head for numbers, so I really admire people who do!"

"Sounds complicated," Burt added. "And you're doing it in your spare time? Why aren't you majoring in it?"

"Well... It's kind of a long story, but I might. Someday." That it sounded like a lie to Kurt's ears didn't surprise him — what surprised him was how _little_ it sounded like a lie.

"You should think about it. Reading journals like that on your own? That's pretty impressive."

Dave huffed, ducking his head for a moment before remembering he was talking to adults and raising his chin. "Thanks."

Genuine interest. No judgment. No expressions of cognitive dissonance, comparing body and brain. Only the most minor of pressure, no expectations or even a hint of a desire to meddle. Kurt could've kicked himself for not directly suggesting his parents for this little experiment; now that he thought about it, he couldn't have thought of anyone else who would've been as perfect.

For the first time in over a decade, Dave was open and honest about himself and who he was, and the world didn't collapse around him.

"Hey, Mom, Burt!" Finn came lumbering down the stairs wearing a shirt that actually looked decent. "Yo, Dave! You meet my parents?"

"Yep," Dave said, tension fraught once more.

"Cool!" He slapped Dave's shoulder. "We're gonna go out to eat, so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"It was very nice to finally meet you, Dave," Carole said.

"Same here," Dave replied in a mildly dazed tone. "Have a good dinner."

On the way out, Kurt gave Dave a brief nod behind everyone else's back. It wasn't returned, but that was expected; Kurt wouldn't have been surprised if it took a while for Dave to calm down and find himself again. He merely brushed his hand against Dave's arm as he slipped out the door.

* * *

"And that's my brother Jack."

Kurt swiped on Dave's smartphone screen to cue up the next photo. "I can see the resemblance between you two in your eyes and nose, but otherwise..."

"Yeah, I mostly take after my dad. Jack mostly takes after my mom."

"Okay, combatants!" the attendant yelled. "Are you ready to enter the arena?!"

"Whoop, looks like we're up." Dave stuck his phone back into his pocket and picked up his pistol. "You ready, fancypants?" he sneered.

Kurt smiled serenely. "Oh, I think you'll be surprised at how ready I am."

The tutoring sessions had continued, though they now ended with Dave continuing to do some of his math projects. Kurt always stayed, always watched, as Dave slowly began narrating some of what he was doing, talking about divisions of math ("I'm pretty much interested in all of it, though there are some I like more than others, and that's what most of my projects are about"), about topology, information theory, statistics... The vast majority of it was way over Kurt's head, but Dave cared about it, so he did too, to some extent.

Still, the two continued to try to meet outside of the tutoring sessions; Kurt couldn't help but think that this effort and Dave's slow opening up were related. Last week it'd been a fascinating independent movie at Gateway, during which Kurt was encouraged at how into it Dave was; he'd only had to nudge him in the ribs twice to keep him from nodding off. The week before that was a Columbus Blue Jackets game, a desperate attempt by Dave to teach Kurt the beauty of the game. It mostly failed, thanks in part to the nosebleed seats that were the only ones they could afford. Now...

"You talk tough, but it's dog eat dog out there. Kill or be killed. Only the strongest survive." Dave tightened the straps on his vest.

 _Sheesh, and he calls_ me _melodramatic._ "And you think I can't handle it?"

"I _know_ you can't handle it."

"Oh ho ho, it's _on_ now, Karofsky."

Laser tag. A new venue had just opened near the OSU campus, and while it wasn't Kurt's usual cup of tea, his body _did_ contain testosterone, so naturally he didn't mind Dave's suggestion to play a couple of rounds.

In fact, that was the main appeal of associating with Dave lately. In high school, Kurt tended to run with the same kind of people — people much like him, with similar interests. When he came to college, he fell into some of the familiar patterns, such as his first friendships being with Blaine and Rachel. This was, of course, because it was safer; better being in a small clique than a lone wolf target, and better that you know that your interests were accepted and shared, especially when they tended to be out of the mainstream.

But now, he was seeing the world through entirely different eyes — Dave's eyes. And it fascinated him just as much as the mathematics did. Sure, he'd gotten a taste of these kinds of lives through Finn and Sam, but for all his preaching about diversity, it was a little startling to realize just how much wonderful variety there really was out there. That, perhaps, was the most educational thing college could ever teach him.

It was probably the enthusiasm — or the joy, as he'd told Dave. Mathematics was no longer this slog of numbers and symbols, because now he'd seen it through Dave's eyes, and he'd never be able to look at it in the same old way again. So it was for a number of different little things: Reddit, pineapple on pizza, and even hockey to a small (small small) extent.

What was even more startling and gratifying was that Dave was returning the favor. He'd actually come to more public performances, and even sat in the shadows for a private rehearsal. When asked why, Dave had shrugged and said, "Because I want to see what it's like when someone does what they love." Kurt liked to think that his own enthusiasm also played a role, especially when Dave would gamely listen to his prattling about Broadway musicals and costuming.

Either way, it was one of a million little cracks developing in Dave's shell that Kurt was conscious of ever since that dinner with Finn and his parents. Afterward, Dave had asked, with some trepidation, whether his dad or Carole had brought up his mathematics interest to Finn.

"No, they didn't. Bet you're relieved, eh?"

Dave's face had screwed up. "I... I dunno. Funny thing is, I thought I would be, but instead I feel kinda... torn, I guess."

The cracks were growing wider. Kurt could _feel_ it.

He also _felt_ like a winner as he emerged from the laser tag arena.

"Motherfuck!" Dave cried as he followed, not noticing the little kid nearby grinning or her mother glaring at him. "How the fuck did you _do_ that, Hummel?!"

Kurt smiled serenely as he slipped his vest onto a set of hooks. "Oh, I thought my performance was somewhat subpar."

"'Subpar'?! You actually took down a couple of guys! I mean, you still weren't as good as me, but you were a helluva lot better than I thought you'd be!"

"Well, I suppose I might've learned something from Finn's video games," Kurt said with a shrug. "The amount of time he spent glued to that Xbox, one can't help but pick up a few pointers, even when you're mostly not paying attention."

"Goddamn." Dave actually sounded somewhat awed, which tickled Kurt very pink. "You really are a complex son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"I'm not the only one," he replied. As expected, Dave didn't have a witty rejoinder to _that_.

Afterward, they went to dinner at a casual Italian place nearby ("Oh, man, there was this place called Breadstix in Lima," Dave said. "Awful pasta. But the breadsticks were, like, eating God."). As Dave noisily slurped up his spaghetti, which flicked a spot of sauce onto his chin, Kurt shook his head sadly.

"Where did you learn your table manners? Or were you just raised by grizzly bears?"

Dave grinned, the sauce still clinging to his chin. "Why so serious, fancypants? I told you, I'm a good actor. I can be perfectly fucking charming when I want to be. You should feel privileged I think you're enough of a friend to just hang loose with."

Kurt snapped to attention, even as he couldn't keep his eyes off that damn spot of sauce. "I'm..." he began, but stopped himself. This was delicate territory he was treading here; he knew from hard experience that men steeped in heteronormative culture could get defensive if they felt coerced into talking about "feelings". On the other hand, Dave had certainly displayed much more to him, even if not by choice, so maybe the risk wasn't as big as he was fearing? But he still took the plunge, because that was his way. "I'm glad you consider us 'friends'."

Dave blinked. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, I think you've seriously proven yourself to me — just by going to so much trouble to prove yourself to me to begin with. I don't think anyone except my parents has spent as much time and energy on me as you, because you seem to think I'm worth something, and..." Dave wiped violently at his mouth, but failed to dislodge the spot of sauce, much to Kurt's annoyance. "You and Finn... I've never known anyone like you two." He grinned weakly. "Your parents musta done a hell of a job."

"I'll tell them you said that," Kurt said, even as the flattery sent a warm rush through him. "But I feel much the same. Like I said, I'm really glad you think of me as a friend, because you're one to me too."

"Now how the fuck did that happen?" Dave asked, not entirely seriously. "I mean, look at us; we're about as different as you can get, except for a few details..."

"True, the only thing we overtly have in common is our sexuality, but... I think there are more commonalities than you might think. We're both intelligent and talented, we both have gone through hard life experiences that have made us more empathetic, and we're both meant for bigger things than other people may expect of us." Kurt shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I think that's more than enough basis for friendship, don't you? As for how it happened, I think we both just sort of... slipped into it, maybe without meaning to."

"I sure didn't expect it, that's for sure. To have someone like you in my life... It really means a lot to me, Kurt, seriously — I can't tell you how much. It means a lot to know that there's people out there who could like _me_ , math nerdiness and all. I... I almost think I..." He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. When he opened them, Kurt could almost see the mask back, at least partially. "I could use some dessert. How about you?"

As disappointed as Kurt was, he knew he had to let Dave take things at his own pace (a realization he knew he needed to get back to). So he merely said, to Dave's visible relief, "Same here. But first, you have a spot of sauce on your face. It's been driving me insane."

"Where?"

"Your chin. To your left."

"Here?" He scratched at his face, completely missing the sauce again.

"No, no, more. Now up... Too far! Oh, for heaven's...!" He snatched up a napkin. "I'll get—!"

"No, wait, I think I feel it. It's here, ri—"

Those two sentences were spoken practically at the same time. They both cut themselves short for the same reason: Dave had finally found the spot of sauce just as Kurt had reached over to wipe it off himself. Their hands touched, almost caressed, the way the motions overlapped, and Kurt could _feel_ the electricity as their skin met. He didn't have any idea where it came from, not then, but he felt it all the same.

Both of them froze tight, their hands still touching. All Kurt could think of was how unexpectedly soft and warm Dave's skin was. Dave's left eye twitched; Kurt was sure they were doing the same thing: trying to command their muscles to just _move_ already, to break this awkward moment... But they couldn't, that much was clear. They couldn't even break the eye-lock they had going... Kurt realized that he hadn't known what color Dave's eyes were before that moment... But now that he did, he couldn't help but see how beautiful they were...

Dave's hand limply dropped, severing whatever weird connection was made. He visibly jumped up and back in his chair. "I... I, uh..." Kurt had no idea what he looked like then, but he felt as though he couldn't have acted even if he'd wanted to.

"How about that dessert?" Kurt finally managed to say, his smile and voice both so incredibly weak that he sounded like a fool to his own ears.

"Kurt, I'm—"

"Dave, you have nothing to apologize for," Kurt said in a low voice. "Absolutely nothing. But... I'd appreciate it if I could have a little time. Just to think. But I won't have you beating yourself up over nothing. You said you considered me a friend? I consider you a friend, no matter what. Okay?"

"I..." Dave exhaled. "Okay." Kurt didn't believe that it entirely _was_ okay — not completely — but enough to let it slide for now.

For Kurt was telling the absolute truth: he really did need to think, and beyond tonight (which was spent mostly in silence; they both had to half eat, half drink their gelato). He didn't exactly know what kinds of emotions were roiling inside him, but one fact came upon him with crystal clarity:

He'd have to tell Dave about Prof. Schuester's offer — sooner rather than later. Even if it destroyed one of the best relationships he'd ever had.


	9. Chapter 9

"So who is he?" Rachel asked as she sat down next to him.

Kurt looked up at her, annoyed. He'd chosen this particular bench because it was quiet, out of the way, and shaded, perfect to think. Alone. Now that she was here, she'd be impossible to shake off, rather like a remora. He sighed, thankful at least that spring was coming and the day was relatively warm — though maybe if it'd been colder, he would've had a better chance of being alone.

"How'd you find me?" he grumbled.

"Part luck, part Blaine telling me where he saw you walking." Kurt made a mental note to do something horrible to Blaine when he least expected it. "So who is he?" Rachel repeated.

"Who is what?"

"The guy. The one you're pining over."

"I'm not pining, I'm thinking. Something I'd rather do on my own."

"Okay, fine, you're thinking," she said, ignoring the rather big hint that was on the edge of being more of an order. "But it's obviously bothering you, because you haven't said more than a few words the past three days. In my experience, such deep moods usually come with matters of the heart."

"Interesting theory," Kurt said sarcastically, keeping his eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of him, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. "And you have experience with 'matters of the heart'?"

Rachel drew herself up in offense. "I most certainly do. I did date in high school — although the romance ended in a tragic and dramatic fashion." She paused, as if expecting Kurt to ask for details. When he didn't, she merely shook her head and continued. "And as you well know, I'm in a burgeoning relationship right now. Maybe I don't have as much experience as some, but I do have it." She paused again, this time to look Kurt over; he wondered what she was seeing: his expression? His posture? "I promise I'll keep your counsel. I know I tend to overshare sometimes..." Kurt snorted, which she apparently didn't hear. "... But if you just need someone to listen, I'm here."

"That doesn't sound like you," Kurt said. "What brought this on? Honestly, I always thought you were kind of a self-absorbed diva."

There wasn't any anger or condemnation in the words; it was a mere statement of fact. Rachel merely giggled. "You make that sound like a bad thing. And who says I'm not?" The smile vanished; she chewed her lower lip before continuing. "I was a star where I grew up," she said. " _The_ star. Nobody else could compare to me when it came to performing — not even close. Everything came so easily for me; I was the unquestioned choice for every solo and lead role I was ever interested in, and even some I wasn't. I reveled in it for a while, but sometime during my junior year, I realized it was kind of... lonely. I didn't have anyone to interact with whom I could truly consider a peer, at least when it came to the arts, and not only was I never challenged, no one could even understand why I'd want to be — for similar reasons." The bottom of her shoes scraped against the sidewalk as she swung her legs underneath her. "I think that feeling of isolation increased my empathy significantly. After all, I had nothing else to work at anyway when I could just do a mediocre job and get all the applause I could ever want. And now that I'm here at college, I have those peers I've always yearned for... Like you." She smiled. "So I'm grateful for that, and for you introducing me to Finn, so I'd like to return the favor. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Honestly, it was, and Kurt thought he'd drive himself mad if he had to stew over this alone for one more minute. So, fighting against his better judgment, he said, "Okay. But you can't share a word of this to anyone. Not even Finn. Your lips are sealed. Got it?"

Rachel made a zipper motion over her lips. "Promise."

So Kurt talked. He talked a lot. He didn't give Dave's name or his association with Finn's fraternity — he wasn't _stupid_ — but he shared most of the rest; there was no way she could give any sort of useful advice without most of the big picture. Rachel stared at Kurt, fascinated, her mouth slightly open, through his whole recitation; she made moves several times to interrupt, but he shut down each by glaring and not pausing. By the time he finished, he was somewhat out of breath, but somehow... lighter, as if sharing had actually physically lifted a burden from him.

Rachel continued her stare. "Wow," she said.

"I know."

"Um... I need a moment here..."

"I understand. I've needed a lot more than that for a long while now."

"Well..." Rachel began slowly, "to start with... You've only told me the facts — _what_ happened — but not what you're thinking and feeling about all this, and I don't think I could even begin to understand, let alone advise, until I know that."

"Fair enough..." Now this was the hard part. Kurt took in a deep breath before speaking. "I suppose the first thing is that I'm not sure anymore why I'm doing all this — the tutoring and meeting him and making him a friend and all that. It began as self-interest, definitely, but as I've gotten to know him... I've actually felt my interest in getting that eternal A slipping away more and more. Then I just wanted to understand how someone could hide such a remarkable gift. Now I know, and... I'm not exactly sure where I stand with it all. Whatever it started as, I don't think it's the same... But what is it?"

"Only you can answer that," Rachel said quietly, "but from what I've heard... Do you have some kind of feelings for this boy?"

And there it was: the million dollar question, finally spoken aloud when Kurt couldn't even bear to think it. "I... I think he's a good guy. I think he's a lot deeper and more complex than I could've ever imagined. I don't deny that part of my motives was trying to figure out what makes him tick, and as I've learned more and more... But I guess that I never really thought about it that way until that night after laser tag. The physical contact... It's like it opened this _door_ and..." He groaned, slumping over. "I'm so confused..."

"Obviously," Rachel said, not unkindly. "With everything you've done for him, and that you've done together... It sounds like a lot more than just friends would do."

"Maybe," Kurt grunted. "I went into this wanting to get closer to him, so I could figure out how to persuade him to come with me to Professor Schuester willingly. I succeeded — way more than I thought. It's almost scary how close I feel to him now. Probably because I'm kind of a lifeline to him, because I'm the first person he's shown his real self to in over ten years..."

"There's intimacy there," Rachel said, nodding.

"Exactly."

"How do you think he feels about you? Maybe you're worrying about nothing, if he just sees you as a friend..."

"I was thinking about that. Hoping that. But what happened has made me see a few things that have already occurred in a new light; I don't think I'd have felt nearly as awkward if I didn't think there was _something_ between us. Besides, the way I felt when we touched... I'm almost positive he felt the same way."

"Then he may be just as confused as you are."

"This sounds terrible, but I hope so. Then at least I wouldn't be alone. Anyway, it's almost irrelevant right now what he feels about me — _I_ think _I_ could feel something for him, and I need to figure out how to approach what I'm feeling either way. Does that make sense?"

"It does." Rachel shifted in her seat, turning her body to face Kurt more. "Okay, then, assume he does have feelings for you. How would you feel about that?"

"I told you, I don't know. That's half the reason I've been agonizing."

"Fine. Then if you're ambivalent about what you feel about him—"

"I didn't say I was."

"... Then maybe we need to approach this in a different way: describe him for me. Describe what you see when you look at him."

Kurt frowned, but obeyed, almost unwillingly, as if he were being carried along on a current of impulse. "Well... Like I said, he's complex, which I find fascinating. He's been on both sides of the social scale, so he's had an almost unique opportunity to view both sides, and I think he's come out the better for it. He's smart, obviously, strong — much stronger than he seems to think. He's _different_ , in a good way — he stands out, like I do. He deserves so much more than he allows himself, and I suppose one reason I've stuck by this long is to see him realize that. I just... I can't stand to see him so afraid..." When he finally paused to further gather his thoughts, Rachel was smiling for some bizarre reason. "What?"

"If you could've looked at your face while you were talking about him... If you could've listened to how you sounded... I don't think you'd have any more doubt or confusions. If you don't have _some_ sort of feelings for him, then nothing makes sense."

For the life of him, Kurt couldn't recall how he felt just a scant few seconds before. It was like he was lost in whatever he was thinking of...

And he was thinking of Dave, so maybe that in of itself was a sign.

"My dads always told me that 'love' starts with 'like'," Rachel continued, "that love at first sight is a beautiful but very rare thing. I mean, Finn and I prove it exists, but generally, I think it's true. The way you've talked about your journey with this boy tells me that you at the very least like him a lot. Can you at least confirm that?"

Kurt hesitated only a bare moment before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

"All right, then. I don't know a lot about what you find attractive, but I seem to recall that you have a thing for athletic types..."

Kurt paled. "What did Finn tell you?"

"Nothing," Rachel said, smiling serenely. "Thank you for confirming what I half suspected." Kurt cursed under his breath. "Oh, I don't blame you at all, of course. But anyway, it sounds like you at least don't find your math genius unattractive..."

"That's true. But it's not about looks. I just think _him_ , his real self, his _soul_ , is beautiful enough that—" Kurt stopped short. He swallowed. "I just said that, didn't I?"

"You did."

"I... can't think of a way to spin that." His heart was pounding in his ears.

"The two of you have bonded over the secret you share with him. He's found refuge in you, yet he's already proven that he's strong enough to stand on his own two feet as well, even if it was in service of a lie." She hesitated. "Speaking of lies..."

Kurt groaned. "I know."

"I don't think you deceived him... At least not entirely. I believe you when you say that he grew to be more than a ticket to an easy A for you. How could I not?"

"But will _he_ believe it?"

"I don't know," Rachel admitted. "But I think that whether it's friendship or love, trust is a key component of both. I agree with you: he has to know why you became so interested in him."

"I'd hoped you'd tell me differently."

"And I think you knew what I'd say. Because it's what most people would say."

"I know," Kurt repeated, rubbing his eyes. "It's just... He's opened up so much to me, and this could cause him to shut right back down again. It'll sound like I was exploiting his genius for my own ends... Because that was exactly what I was doing at first. I don't want to be responsible for him burrowing back into that dark place he's been in all these years. I don't..." He swallowed back a lump in his throat. "I don't want to hurt him..."

"And there's more proof of what I think you feel, as if that were necessary." Rachel pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "But again, whatever you two are now, or become in the future, it'll never progress with this secret hanging between you. Look at how much you're tormented now; imagine how you'll feel a month from now. Two months. When he moves in with you. Do you think you can handle that?"

"No," Kurt said immediately. "You're absolutely right. I have to rip off the Band-Aid. Dave deserves a lot, but most of all, he deserves the truth."

"Oh, so that's his name!"

Kurt nearly beat his forehead. Maybe he'd been too hard on Finn; self-editing was a lot harder than he'd thought. "And you'll forget it if you know what's good for you," he snarled. Rachel repeated the zipper motion over her lips. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're still right. If he... hates me, he has every right to. That's a risk I'll have to take."

"If he truly does feel for you what you do for him, maybe that'll make him more inclined to understand and forgive."

"Or it'll make him feel even more betrayed." Kurt stood. "Either way, I need to tell him. Today. He has to know."

Rachel stood as well. "Good luck, Kurt. I truly mean that."

"I know. Thank you. I think I always knew what I'd have to do, but thank you for giving me that little push."

She hugged him; he stiffened in surprise for a moment, then melted into it. "Things will work out. Have faith in that, okay?"

Well, Rachel always was a little too optimistic for her own good.

* * *

"Yo, Kurt." Dave appeared right on time, fortunately for Kurt's heart rate. Things between them had been a little subdued since _that_ night, but they'd quickly tried to smother the discomfort under a veneer of normalcy — thus, the continuation of tutoring. Tutoring and projects still happened, but there was still that aura of discomfort, like a heavy quilt over their heads.

It was about to get even worse.

"You ready for your exam?" Dave continued as he dropped his backpack on the table. "If you want, we can— What's wrong?"

 _Don't be so surprised. He_ is _a genius_. Or did Kurt just look that bad? Either way... "Dave... There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay..." Dave licked his upper lip, which Kurt had learned was a sign of either concentration or nervousness (and how screwed was he, that he knew this?). He wondered whose anticipation was worse.

"I have a confession to make." Kurt tried to keep his heart inside his rib cage as he took a deep breath. "Last fall, you lost a page of one of your projects, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but how did—"

"You found it again, in a folder you keep under your mattress. You probably thought you'd just forgotten you put it there."

Dave stared. "Holy shit, Kurt, are you psychic or something? Because if you are, I really want to know some winning lottery numbers..."

"I know because you didn't forget. You had it in your backpack, and you lost it in the gym locker room." The words came out in a rush. "I found it."

Dave's brow wrinkled. "You...?"

"I meant to return it to you if it was important, but I happened to show it to Professor Schuester. He told me that it was the work of a genius, and..." Oh God, was he about to die of a heart attack right then and there? Maybe that'd be more merciful for everyone. But no, he continued to live. "He offered to give me an automatic A in that and all future classes with him if I introduced you to him."

Libraries were supposed to be quiet, but Kurt had never heard such dead silence before in his life. There was no shuffling of feet, papers crinkling, typing, or low conversation — there was no sound, anywhere.

Kurt somehow managed to tamp down his burgeoning hysterics and continue. "I accepted. I didn't know who you really were then, and honestly, I didn't like the persona you were presenting to everyone. So I returned the page to your room the night you saw me at the frat party. Then we met at the bar, and I began to realize just how seriously I'd misjudged you. I really became interested in you and your life, and before I knew it, we got to be friends, and I realized there was more to you than your mathematics skills. Prof. Schuester still doesn't know who you are, I swear. I don't care about the goddamn A anymore. I care about—" Kurt cut himself short. Did he really want to bring up feelings right now? This was most likely already more than Dave could take, judging by his sudden paleness. No, better to talk about that later... if there was a later. "I never meant to hurt you, Dave. I never once thought of just giving your name to him. I admit that at first I was trying to get to know you better just to figure out how to persuade you to talk to Prof. Schuester willingly, but I haven't ever lied to you about what I think about you. You... you're a good person, Dave, and I never meant to deceive you. Never. I know I didn't tell you the whole truth either, but by the time I realized what you were really like, I felt like I was in so deep, I—" Were his eyes growing hot? _Do not cry, do not cry..._ He wiped blindly at his still dry eyes and managed to say in a hoarse whisper, "I'm so, so sorry, Dave. I was scared of losing you... as a friend, and I didn't want to break your faith in me, because you've grown so much as a man, and..." Dave rose, grabbing his backpack. "Dave...? Please don't be angry at me..."

"I'm not angry at you." Kurt could see and hear that was true — but that just made him feel a million times worse. "I just... I need some time, okay? I'll text to you or something. I promise. I'll... I just need some time." He stared at Kurt for a moment with shining eyes, and practically ran out of the library.

Some distant part of Kurt not paralyzed by emotion wondered which of them was more torn apart inside.

* * *

As it turned out, the time was about a week — a week of living hell for Kurt Hummel. Fortunately, as a performing arts major, he had experience acting when there was a lot on the line, but this would probably end up ranking as one of the toughest roles of his life: normal Kurt. He laughed with Rachel and Blaine (smoothly avoiding awkward questions from them both), went to class, even took a test. But no matter where he was or what he was doing, his ears were trained for a single sound: the chime of an incoming text. Whenever he heard it, he dropped everything (once even literally) to check his phone; each time, it was either his family, Rachel, or Blaine, and it was all he could do to not scream at them to leave him alone until Dave got back in touch.

It was about halfway through day five when Kurt finally snapped. It was completely random; he was in the middle of lunch, listening to Rachel and Blaine chat about Ms. July and her latest antics when his mind and nerve just... broke. He got up, his sandwich still only half eaten, grabbed his backpack, and left the table without a word to his dumbstruck friends.

He had no idea where Dave was at that moment, but he knew he'd walk the entire OSU campus over and over until he found him. First stop: the frat house. Finn hadn't said anything about Dave for the entire time, and Kurt only barely resisted the urge to interrogate, but if Dave wasn't in and Finn was... His stepbrother was about to get the interrogation of his life. By the time Kurt was done with him, he'd be able to get through the full CIA treatment without sweat.

Fortunately for everyone involved, as Kurt was heading up the street towards the Beta Theta house, two people emerged from the front door: Finn and Dave. Kurt froze momentarily, then almost dove behind a nearby tree. Peeking out like a private detective (or, less charitably, a stalker), he watched the two turn in the opposite direction down the sidewalk. Kurt's lips set in a grim smirk as he followed from a discreet distance.

Whatever discussion they were having, it wasn't animated, nor was it smooth — they were constantly interrupted by crosswalks and running into fellow Greek system members. When they finally stopped, it was at, by some weird coincidence, the very same bench that Kurt and Rachel had had their own conversation on the week before. Then again, he had a feeling they'd sought it out for the very same qualities Kurt had.

He carefully pushed his way through some bushes behind the bench, gingerly pressing his foot down on the ground only when he was sure there were no leaves or twigs underneath. It took a few moments of getting scratched at by brush to wend his way behind the arboreal line. Now he was perfectly positioned between the bench and a large tree: hidden from view yet well within listening distance. His usual reluctance to engage in such an invasion of privacy had dissipated completely long ago.

Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't already done worse.

At first, he heard nothing — odd, because they'd been talking all the way over. Or rather, only Dave had, now that Kurt thought about it. Could it be...?

Then Finn's voice drifted through the warming spring air. "Wow. Then you're... some kinda Einstein math genius?"

"Yeah," Dave's voice answered, low and embarrassed. "I suppose."

"Holy shit... That's pretty fucking cool..."

Somewhere in Kurt's mind, a dim sense of triumph and pride stirred, for both Dave and Finn.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. I mean, yeah, those kids at your school were assholes, but that's the way we act when we're that age, y'know? But I think when we get older, we start to see that being special isn't such a bad thing to be."

There was a second of silence, then: "Wow."

"Heh, I know, yeah? Kurt taught me that."

"Kurt..." Even though Kurt himself couldn't see anything, and didn't dare peek around the tree, even if they were sitting facing in the opposite direction, he could feel the change in mood at the mention of his name. He stifled a whimper in his chest.

"Look, man, he's my stepbrother. I've known him for years, and I'm probably kinda biased, but if he told you he hasn't told the professor about you, and that you're his friend, I seriously think he means it."

"I _know_ that." Kurt gasped involuntarily; fortunately, they didn't seem to hear. "I really don't blame him for taking Prof. Schuester's offer. He didn't know who I was then, and you know I'm pretty good at acting like a complete moron jock."

"Yeah... I mean, no! I mean... I never thought you were a _complete_ moron..."

Dave laughed. "Cool it, Finn, I know what you mean. I told you, I spent a lot of time and energy to make people think that. But with Kurt... the thing is, I don't know _when_ he stopped seeing me as a meal ticket, you know? He said he's my friend now, but he's pretty damn good at acting too, and I don't know what to think. I'm so confused..."

There was silence; Kurt had to clap his hand over his mouth. After a few minutes (centuries), Finn said, "So... how do you feel about Kurt?"

"What? I just told you—"

"No, I mean, ever since I found out he was helping you out with the gay thing, I've been kinda wondering... Do you... y'know... _like_ him?"

There was another silence, longer and deeper this time. Kurt leaned his head against the tree, fighting the urge to do something dramatic and ill-conceived that would give him away. "I've been trying to figure that out for, like, months now, man. It's like... Kurt's just so strong, and brave, and stupidly compassionate... No matter what, I don't think I could hate him, you know, just because he's done _so_ much for me, even when he didn't have to, not even for Prof. Schuester, and he barely even knew me. He... he made me brave, and he listened to me, and even if it was to get into my head for his A, just listening, God, I can't tell you how much it helped..."

"You think he's cute?"

"Oh, God, yes, completely hot—" Kurt could hear Dave's voice choke off; his own cheeks were burning. "Please don't tell him that," he begged in a rather familiar piteous voice.

Finn laughed. "Hey, don't worry about it. But I kinda think you just answered my question, don't you?"

Dave sighed. "Yeah. I think I did."

"So why didn't you say anything to him before?"

"Usual reason: because I was scared — scared that he still kinda saw me as a braindead frat dude. Scared that he'd laugh at me if I told him how I feel. Scared that he just pitied me. And now..."

"Now...?"

"I still trust him... but at the same time, I don't, you know? How long did he spend just telling me what he thought I wanted to hear, even if he did mean it later? When did I stop being just an A to him? What would he do..." Dave gulped. "What would he do if I knew how I felt about him...?"

"Okay, dude. Like I said, Kurt's my stepbrother, but you're my best friend. I don't want either of you to get hurt, and I _really_ don't want you to hurt each other. At the same time, I know both of you — fuck, I feel like I know you even better now — and I can at least tell you what I think. That okay?"

"Yeah."

"Then..." Finn took an audible breath. "One of the things I really respect about Kurt is that he doesn't BS. He says what's on his mind, and he doesn't lie to spare someone else's feelings."

"So he's a bitch?"

The two chuckled; Kurt's hands tightened into fists. He wasn't sure which of them he'd have to take vengeance on later. Maybe both. Both sounded good. "If you wanna put it that way. But that also means that when he doesn't like someone, he makes sure you know it. Isn't that what he did before he knew?"

There was a pause. "Yeah."

"And if he really were only interested in you for that grade, he would've done something about it long ago, right? He _definitely_ wouldn't have told you when there was no way you could've found out on your own, right?"

"... Yeah."

"I know this whole situation is fucked, but it doesn't sound like anything was really anybody's fault. Sometimes shit just _happens_. I mean, maybe Kurt should've told you sooner, but—"

"But I'm the last guy who should be lecturing people about keeping secrets," Dave said with a bitter laugh.

"Not what I was gonna say, but okay. Point is, I trust him. He's earned that from me. I can't tell you how to feel, and like I said, biased, but we weren't always close." Kurt grimaced at the reminder. "Now we are, and... I think he's always tried to do right by you. That's why he told you in the first place. It's up to you, but... that's my opinion, and I think you'll really be missing out if you stop trusting him."

It took long moments, during which Kurt was pretty sure there was sound, but he didn't hear one decibel of it, before Dave spoke again. "Okay. I'll think about it. Thanks."

"Hey, thanks for telling me the truth. Feels good that you trust me like that, y'know?"

"I do. You're my friend. Besides, I needed someone to talk to, and figured since you already knew part of it..."

"You want me to talk to Kurt, or...?"

"Nah. I'll have to do it myself. Probably soon. Just gotta think a little more."

 _And that_ , Kurt thought, _is probably my cue_. He slowly extricated himself from his hiding place and walked briskly away before either Dave or Finn could see him.

He wasn't sure whether what he'd just heard was entirely a good thing or not, but he was buoyed by the fact that Dave _was_ going to speak to him, eventually.

Even if it was to tell him to leave him alone for good.

* * *

Two days later, Dave sent the text. Even though Kurt was still on pins and needles the entire time, some of his suspense was assuaged by what he'd overheard. Not all of it, though, not by a long shot, so getting that text was the kind of blessing that the atheist Kurt hadn't thought possible.

Their exchange was terse and to the point, for they both seemed to realize that most of the words would need to be spoken in person. They arranged to meet that very evening at their table in the library at 10 pm.

Kurt was there at 9:30. Dave was already waiting.

Kurt silently slipped into his usual chair across from Dave. The two nodded at each other. A silent moment passed that was so uncomfortable, Kurt could actually feel his skin prickle. In the end, he was the first to speak.

"Do you mind... if I go first?"

"No... Go ahead."

"I... I just wanted to emphasize what I told you before: I am so, so sorry for keeping this from you for so long. I want to justify myself, but everything I've thought of just comes across as an excuse. I never once wanted to hurt you or exploit you, but you deserved the truth about why I started trying to get to know you in the first place."

"So that's why you wanted me to tutor you, huh?" Dave asked quietly. "Because you already knew."

"Yes. First I wanted the A. Then I found you, your talents, so interesting that I had to know why you were hiding... Then I got to know why — I got to know _you_ , and... I hate the thought of you possibly retreating into your masquerade again because of me. I wanted to show you that being open and honest wasn't so bad, and here I was, hiding the truth like a hypocrite. Please, Dave, I don't care if you hate me — just don't go back to hiding, please. You deserve so much, Dave, even more than you think, and you deserve to be happy, and if it'll make you happy to never see me again, I'll do it, just don't... I..."

Kurt's words trailed off in tears. However much he tried to force them back, he couldn't, not this time, not with his mind battering him with images of Dave miserably slumping through life, smothering his gifts behind a mask, because of _him_... It was more than he could take. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands scrambling to his pockets for a tissue because he had to stay calm, he didn't have time for tears, he had to make sure Dave was okay, Dave was the one who mattered here...

The feeling of a tissue being gently pressed against his eyes was itself enough to stop the tears. He grabbed it and pulled it from his face, and saw Dave — no longer sitting in the chair opposite, but kneeling by his, a shred of the tissue still trapped between his fingers. "Shit, Kurt," he said, his own eyes shining, "don't cry. Please. I don't think I can take it. I'll start crying too, and everyone will think I'm gay."

Kurt laughed, almost hysterically. "Oh, God forbid that happens! Whatever would you do if you were gay?"

Dave laughed too, though Kurt still noticed his eyes darting about to make sure they were still alone. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about... everything. It's been kind of a lot at once, you know?"

"I know."

"But there's one thing I kept coming back to: I don't think anyone else in my life has made me as happy as you have." Kurt's grip on the tissue tightened. "I mean, yeah, you started out being selfish, and I totally understand why. But then... you were a _friend_ to me, a real one, like Finn. You pushed me, but never like my parents or my teachers did. You didn't get caught up in the idea of raising or teaching a genius. You let me get comfortable with it on my own. You... actually thought about me. You wanted _me_ to be happy, and..." He chuckled wetly. "I sure as fuck can't ignore that. You went way beyond what someone just thinking about an A would do. That's why..." He took a deep breath. "That's why I believe you."

A week — no, _months_ — of stress began falling away from Kurt, like molting feathers. "You do...?"

"Yeah. I keep thinking about all the times you stuck by me and constantly told me that whatever happened was up to me. Hell, you probably wouldn't have suggested the tutoring thing if I hadn't insisted on doing something for you." Kurt nodded silently. "Being your friend, I can't even tell you how much it's changed me for the better. Your whole fucking family... All of you have seriously changed my life. I mean it." Dave paused to pull his chair over next to Kurt's and sit facing him. "I guess I just needed to feel like I was in control of my own life for once. I kept letting other people make me something I wasn't. Even when they stopped, they were still doing it, like Spencer said."

Kurt nodded again, remembering that talk Spencer had given just a couple of weeks previous, about how he too had kept tight control over his behavior, even though he was out, afraid of being reduced to a stereotype. "That's on them, though, not you."

"You see?" Dave was practically smiling through tears. "That's why I believe you. Even if you did start out looking out for yourself, you put me first _now_ , and..." He wiped his face. "Okay, this is gonna sound a little gay..."

"Oh?" Kurt asked archly.

"But do you mind if I give you a hug? Nothing romantic, I mean. Just because you're a friend and I don't think I've ever told you before how much it's meant to me, and..."

"So... you forgive me?"

"Have you not been listening to me this entire time?"

"I have. I just... I need to hear it directly. Please."

"Oh, fine. Of course I fucking forgive you."

"G-good. Then you may."

Dave's grip around his chest was tight and warm — very tight and warm. Kurt could practically feel him shudder in his arms as he returned the embrace. It felt as though something was flowing between them — or maybe it was just Kurt swimming in his relief. Whose heartbeat was he feeling: his own or Dave's? Maybe it was both of theirs, in perfect sync.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Dave whispered in his ear. "I love you."

Kurt gasped, pushing Dave away. He knew even as he did so that it was a mistake, but it was just instinct, the need to get a grip on himself, on his thoughts... Dave's face was filled with panic and anguish, and Kurt found himself wanting more than anything to chase it away. "D-did you mean...?"

"I'm sorry," Dave whined in a high pitched voice. "I... I've kinda had a crush on you since the first time we met."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Dave said with a pained chuckle. "You were just so pretty— Cute, I mean!" he yelped suddenly; some part of Kurt was very glad he wasn't able to see his own face at the moment. "I guess I was just overcompensating teasing you like I did."

"Pulling pigtails, huh?" Kurt said slyly.

"Yeah. I suppose. It was good for my cover too. But fuck, Kurt, you're so brave and strong, everything I'm not, and you've done so much for me and you're such a good person and I really hope that I didn't ruin our friendship because the last thing I want to do is—" He broke off with a tight, strangled sound as Kurt took one of Dave's hands on both of his. "I... The last... Uh..." Kurt could almost smell the smoke coming from Dave's synapses. He couldn't help but laugh.

"That night, after laser tag? I... I felt something too. You know how much I value your happiness. I guess it wasn't all that big a step."

"I... Uh..."

"Snap out of it, Dave," Kurt said wryly. "I want to make sure you understand what I'm saying. I wasn't sure what to tell you about this, because there was so much more going on in my mind, but now I know: you felt it too, didn't you? What I felt?" Dave nodded, rapidly and dumbly. Kurt breathed a heavy, happy sigh. "I'm glad. I'm so glad."

Dave stared down at their hands. "You mean...?"

"I'll go as slow as you need, Dave. Whatever pace you want. But... I want to see where this goes. Even if it never comes to anything, I'm glad I know you, and I want to see where this goes."

"Same here!" Dave almost shouted. "I feel the same way! I know I'm just a closeted jagoff, but—" He stopped as Kurt placed a finger upon his lips.

"Hush, now. You're my friend, even if you never become anything more, and I don't like to hear my friends put themselves down. Haven't I told you over and over again that you need to do what's comfortable for you?"

"I know, but—"

"No buts. We have three more years of college ahead of us, not to mention the fact that we live in the same freaking state. As I believe I've told you way too many times, you have to do right by you. Besides, I think we need a little calm to figure out what we are to each other, and if we're compatible. Until then, I think we'll do perfectly fine as friends."

"Right... Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am," Kurt said with a grin. "Haven't I been right so far?"

"Heh, yeah... I guess I can trust you."

"Always."

The word was quiet, devoid of the levity of just seconds before. They sat there in silence, hands joined, for an eternity or two before Dave said, "So... What are you going to do with Professor Schuester?"

Kurt smiled a wicked smile. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to do."

"Oh, God, please don't do something stupid. Especially not for me."

"Why, I'm insulted! I'll be perfectly level headed and reasonable!"

* * *

Of course, that was a complete lie. It was, after all, Professor Schuester's fault all of this happened in the first place. That it turned out for the better, generally, was immaterial. He had to go through a lot of hell to get to that better place, and that, undeniably, was Prof. Schuester's fault.

So Kurt arrived at the lecture hall fifteen minutes before class began. Prof. Schuester was, as was his habit, already there, looking over papers. He looked up at the door opening. "Ah, Kurt! Here early today! Good; the exam is going to be a challenging one—"

"Actually," Kurt interrupted, "I'm here to talk about your... offer."

Schuester's eyes widened as he stood. "Yes?"

Kurt took a moment to savor what was about to happen, and to draw out the painful suspense for Schuester (turnabout is fair play, after all), before continuing. "I've given it a lot of thought. I've done my best to get to know the person you're looking for, and what would be best for him."

"Yes?" Schuester repeated impatiently.

"And I have come to a conclusion." He paused dramatically; God, what a moment! "You can take your eternal A and shove it up your—"

"Professor Schuester?" They both whirled towards the now-open door. Kurt's jaw dropped in disbelief. Had he somehow _known_? What did that mean if he did? The implications, if any, were lost in his shock, because he knew what was about to happen, and he couldn't believe it... "My name is Dave Karofsky. I think you've been looking for me...?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Four Months Later**

A clip from One Direction's "Math Song" burst from Kurt's phone.

"Say hi to Dave for me," Finn muttered without looking up from his own phone.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "If you weren't glued to Rachel's virtual side 24/7, you could say hi to him yourself once in a while." He looked down at the screen. "Besides, it's just a text."

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"Uh, not much. An address, and a date and time: Friday at 11 am."

Finn's nose scrunched. "Huh. Weird. What do you think it is?"

"No idea."

"So you gonna hit Google?"

Kurt frowned. "I don't know. For Dave to be so circumspect, he must want this to be a surprise. Maybe I shouldn't ruin it."

There was dead silence in the Hummel-Hudson living room.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course I am!" Kurt snapped as he opened up his smartphone's web browser. He quickly found out four major facts:

1) The address was that of the Greater Columbus Convention Center.

2) The event being held on the particular day was a mathematical conference with a suitably opaque name.

3) The particular event at the particular time was a presentation of a paper with a title that was, to Kurt, the purest gobbledygook.

4) Two of the authors on that paper jumped out immediately. One was "W. Schuester."

The other was "D. Karofsky."

"He's back," Kurt muttered under his breath.

* * *

 **The Past**

When Dave presented himself to Prof. Schuester in that dramatic fashion that Kurt heartily approved of, it didn't take long to prove he was The One. Just a glance at the notes and papers he'd brought with him was enough.

Schuester immediately latched onto Dave's arm like a leech. He left class to his completely blindsided TAs, even though a major exam was coming up, then shepherded the rather discombobulated Dave into his office. Kurt was able to follow, mostly because he was pretty sure that the professor wasn't really aware of the world around him in his excited state.

He proceeded to spend a silent half hour reading over Dave's work. More than once, the two young men exchanged glances, but neither wanted to risk the possible consequences of breaking the silence. Finally, Prof. Schuester looked up.

"This..." He swallowed, and began again. "This is _incredible_ work. Incredible. And you said you were self taught?" Dave nodded dumbly. "David... You have to be the most talented young person at this school. I... I don't have words to describe what I see here. It's... astounding."

"That's a word," Dave joked weakly.

"Your mind is one in a million," Schuester rambled on without seeming to hear. "Your thinking is more advanced than mathematicians three times your age! What did you say your major was again?"

"Phys ed," Dave admitted sheepishly.

"Phys—!" Schuester sputtered, horrified. "David, I _beg_ you, _please_ study mathematics. I practically guarantee you'd earn your PhD in no time. You'd have a huge scholarship, and you'd put this university on the map almost instantly! You could even have a teaching job if you want..."

"Teach?!" Dave repeated, now the one sounding horrified. "I'm not even nineteen yet!"

"I could make it happen, and considering what you've done with Kurt here, I think you'd be excellent." Kurt felt vaguely insulted. "But I won't push it; it's just an option. Just... The potential you have, the potential you've already demonstrated here..." He slammed his palm onto the stack of papers so suddenly that both students jumped in their chairs. "... Is limitless. If you've learned this much on your own, think of how much more you could accomplish with the backing of OSU...!" He leaned forward over his desk earnestly. "I don't know how much idea you have of what you're capable of, but you are _special_ , David. Honestly, if any mathematician worth his degree saw any of this, they'd want to talk to you just as much as I did, maybe more. If this became public... well, at the least, every university in the _world_ would headhunt you mercilessly." Dave visibly paled. "But I can guarantee one more thing: protection. You can start out collaborating with me and a special group of students, let your ideas out gradually. We'd help you speed up your theorizing and research, and I and the other members of this department have connections and experience that are at your complete disposal so you can get comfortable with the field at your own pace, before you become widely known. If you want to strike out on your own, I'd understand." _But not be fine with it_. That much was clear from his expression. "But Kurt has been very respectful of your desires and boundaries from the start..." Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Dave turn towards him slightly at this revelation. "... So I think I need to do the same. You have my personal promise that this entire university will as well if you join us." For the first time, Schuester's voice turned pleading; Kurt had to admit the man had kept calm much longer than he'd expected. "Please join us."

Kurt suspected that a large part of Schuester's desperation had to do with that "collaborating" he mentioned, not to mention getting his name on papers with Dave's ideas, but the professor was cannier than he'd thought; whether he knew it or not, this pitch was perfectly tailored for Dave. It cast the rest of the academic world as a scary place, a step too far for a young man just getting his feet wet in the field, and OSU as a safe haven. Perhaps it was the only thing of value they could offer that MIT or Oxford couldn't, and it was something Kurt knew Dave valued indeed. Sure, he could extract similar guarantees out of other universities, but only after time and negotiation, not to mention moving to unfamiliar scenery. How much change could Dave take at once? At least here, he'd know people. He'd have his friends, comfortable surroundings...

Kurt wondered if he was being selfish when he hoped Dave would accept.

Dave didn't answer, but Kurt (and, it looked like, Prof. Schuester) didn't expect one right away. Dave's hands were clutching the armrests of his chair, as if searching for purchase on a cliff. More than once, he took a glance at Kurt, but Kurt looked away, as heartbreaking as it was; this had to be a decision Dave made himself. This was, after all, his life.

When Dave finally spoke, it was with a dry and cracked voice. "Can I think about this?"

There was only the barest flash of disappointment on Schuester's face; once more, he surprised Kurt with actual self-control. Remarkable. Maybe having the prize so close to his grasp was having an impact. "Of course. Feel free to come to my office or e-mail me anytime. _Any_ time. I mean it." Of course he did; he'd probably rather shave his body completely bare than even countenance the possibility of missing out on recruiting a genius.

Dave still looked dazed as they left Schuester's office, then the building. "Penny for your thoughts?" Kurt asked tentatively. Maybe expressing them would help him process them, deal with them...

"I..." Dave shook his head. "I'm still trying to come to terms with all this. Now people _know_. It's like I can almost _see_ my life changing, right now, no matter what I decide. Then again, that was kinda the point."

"Hm?"

"Why I decided to go to Prof. Schuester now."

"To be honest, I was wondering about that."

There were scores of students enjoying the sunny afternoon all around them, yet that very crowding provided a feeling of anonymity, of being lost in an ocean of humanity. But then, Kurt thought, Dave was never meant to be anonymous that way — neither of them were. He and Dave, they were both meant to shine. "I kinda realized something when I was thinking about this," Dave said. "I realized that these past few months... I haven't been this happy in years."

"I'm glad."

"I know. God, do I know." He shot a glance at Kurt that was... What word could possibly describe it? The best Kurt's mind could do was _fond_. He could feel himself blushing like a schoolkid. "But you're only part of the reason why."

"Only part?" Kurt asked in mock offense. "Why am I not your entire world by now?"

Dave laughed. "Man, you wanna be a star — you definitely have the ego already!"

"You think that's an insult, but it's not."

"Hah! God, Kurt, you're something else..." Despite its joking tone, Kurt could hear something deeper in that turn of phrase — something much more solid. But Dave didn't give him time to contemplate that. "Seriously, though, once you got me to be who I really am in front of other people... I found I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. That's why I was so conflicted when your parents didn't say anything to Finn. Once you helped me open the door, I kept wanting to open it more and more because of the way I felt when I did. I just... It felt so fucking _good_ to finally be me that I decided I had to do something drastic to make sure I wasn't tempted to go back to the way things were before. So... I went to Prof. Schuester, because I knew once he knew, there'd be no going back."

"Indeed," Kurt said thoughtfully. "If I thought Prof. Schuester was clingy with me, it's likely to be nothing compared to what he's about to do with you." The two walked along in companionable silence, only barely registering the laughter and talk and general hubbub of life going on around them. "So what now for Dave Karofsky, math prodigy?"

"That's kinda what I'm wondering myself."

"You have other options besides OSU and Prof. Schuester. A lot of them, if what he said is true."

"I know. I used to think I had no choice about how to live my life if I wanted to be happy and accepted, but now I have _so_ many, I'm having a hard time dealing with it."

"As I keep saying, you need to do right by you. You've taken the first step, and that's the most important one. Just keep doing what you've been doing: what you think will make you happy. Even if the decision you make ends up being wrong, it's not the end of the world. Remember, you'll have an entire mathematical community drooling over you. Decide that one place and one position isn't for you, the rest will be clamoring to be your rebound." Kurt smiled. "You've got the math world at your feet, Dave Karofsky."

Dave gaped, as if he'd never thought of that before. "Wow. I never considered myself, uh, _attractive_ before."

"Believe me, you are." Kurt knew very well what he was saying, what it could mean to Dave's ears. But he still said it anyway. Because dammit, Dave _was_ attractive, and the fact that he realized it now said a lot about the most attractive part of Dave: his soul. When he wore the false face of the average frat boy, all Kurt could see was the paunch and the attitude. But when he was _Dave_ , he could see the color of his eyes, his crooked smile, his strong arms... Not every good person was attractive, certainly, but it was easier to see someone's attractive qualities _when_ they were good.

Dave couldn't have failed to get the possible underlying meaning, and he didn't. He froze dead, nearly causing a coed behind him to have to do a quick dodge, all while not looking up from her phone. His head bowed, his gaze scampering to the side as if he were suddenly allergic to eye contact. "Shut the fuck up, man," he rumbled, his hands clasped behind his back in what Kurt was sure was some kind of white knuckled death grip.

"Ah, yes, good old David Karofsky deflection. I thought you were done hiding behind curse words and insincerity. What, do you not think you're attractive?"

"I mean... _You're_ attractive..." Even though Kurt had heard that from Dave before, he couldn't help his heart skipping a beat again, as if this was a fresh revelation. Damn, when had he gotten so soft? "And I'm nothing like you..."

"For the last time, Blaine and I are not the only kind of gay man there is. You're living proof of that." He ratcheted his voice lower, but mostly out of consideration for Dave's comfort, not fear that someone would overhear. "Also for the last time, because I'm sick of repeating this, you be you. You're the only Dave Karofsky there is, so you might as well be him. And I don't think he's such a bad guy to be."

"Wow. I... I don't know what to say to any of that..."

"Say, 'I hear and obey, my lord.' That'd be a good start."

Dave punched him in the arm. "You fucking wish!" The two continued on their way; Kurt reveled in the thought that they were the only two people on this campus — no, the entire _world_ — that were part of this moment that felt like a milestone. It made him feel as special as Dave was, as special as he felt when he was on stage. "You know... I think I've made up my mind."

"Really? That was quick."

"I think I kinda knew what I wanted to do. Like usual, you helped me realize it."

"And?"

"And... do you mind being my moral support for just a little while longer? I mean, I'm not gonna freak out completely without you, but... it'd make me feel better."

"You don't even have to ask, Dave."

* * *

Prof. Schuester looked like he was about to cry. One would think that a man twice their age would have a little more dignity, but apparently not. He pumped Dave's hand over and over; Dave himself was starting to look a little freaked out, plainly trying and failing to extricate himself from Schuester's death grip.

"You won't regret this, David, I promise," the professor managed to say, finally letting go of Dave's hand; Dave quickly staggered back a few steps, probably just in case. "This department — no, this university — is your playground. Whatever you want or need, you'll have."

If Dave had been a different person, Kurt was pretty certain this kind of power would've gone to his head. But Dave, being the man he was, just looked kind of overwhelmed. "Uh... You don't need to—"

"I'll get the paperwork done right away," Schuester went on heedlessly. "You'll still have to finish out this term in your current classes, but everything should be set up by next year. I think I'll be able to pull some strings to get some of your requirements lifted. You'll have your scholarship paperwork by tomorrow."

Dave gaped. "Uh... This is going kinda fast for me..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel pressured." Kurt was pretty sure that with the right stimulus, Schuester would've dropped to his knees in front of Dave like a pagan supplicant. "I know this must be a little overwhelming for you. When do you want to get started with mathematical work?"

"Uh... Actually, now wouldn't be bad. I'd at least like to see what I'm getting into." Besides, as Dave had told Kurt earlier, math was still a refuge for him — only now he'd have a greater goal to work towards. No doubt he could also use his work as an excuse to get Schuester off his back for a few precious moments.

"Great!" Schuester beamed like the sun. "Good timing, too; there's a special class session going on right now with some of my other handpicked students. Come on, I'll introduce you to them."

The two students followed their professor down the hall, up a floor, to a corner of the Mathematics Tower Kurt had never set foot in before. The hall lights were dim for some reason, casting the empty space in an almost spectral gloom. He couldn't help but shudder.

Schuester made a beeline for a door on the left; a bright line of light emanated from underneath it. He gave a brisk knock on this door, then opened it. Two people were inside; both looked up from the papers between them at the new arrivals. One was a brown haired young man in a wheelchair wearing an argyle vest and thick glasses. The other was an attractive blonde who would've looked more at home with pom-poms on a football field than in a math classroom.

"We have our newest addition to our little circle," Schuester said with a wide, dazzling, almost triumphant smile. "This is David Karofsky. David, these are Artie Abrams and Brittany Pierce."

"So who's that?" the boy, Artie, asked, nodding towards Kurt.

"A friend of Dave's," Kurt replied simply.

"This isn't a spectator sport, you know. If you're not in the math department, you're not going to get most of what we do."

Kurt shrugged. "This is part of Dave's world now. I just wanted to see it for myself."

Artie shrugged. "Whatever. Suit yourself."

"Artie!" Brittany scolded. She turned to them with a friendly smile. "Don't pay any attention to him. He just thinks 'cause he's smarter than most people that he's got, like, this obligation to be all jerkass genius and stuff. Nobody likes to feel stupid." Her smile flickered for a moment before it was back full force. "But he's a sweetheart, once he gets used to you."

"I am not a 'sweetheart'," Artie grumbled.

"We wouldn't have dated if you weren't."

"So, uh..." Dave finally managed to interrupt, "you guys are underclassmen too?"

"That's right," Schuester said.

"And she said Artie's a genius...?"

"So's Brittany," Artie said. "So are you, if Prof. Schuester's been straight with us."

"So why..."

"... Are we at OSU instead of an Ivy League?" Artie finished with a grin. "In my case, it's because my parents can barely afford to send me here, never mind Princeton, even with a scholarship. Besides, I kinda like Ohio."

"I got into a lot of other schools," Brittany said, "but OSU is the only one I interviewed with where they didn't make me feel like... I dunno, some kinda weird freak."

"There are only the three of you in this special session, but your combined knowledge is like nothing any other university has," Schuester enthused. "I feel incredibly lucky that this department managed to get even one of you, let alone three!" He clapped Dave on the shoulder. "Okay, I'm going to get the wheels turning on your paperwork. Artie, Brittany, make Dave feel welcome and get him up to speed. If any of you need anything, just text me." He hurried out of the room in almost a blinding flash.

The room was silent, but not for long. "He's something, isn't he?" Artie grinned.

"Uh... Yeah." Dave still looked a little overwhelmed.

"Ah, you get used to him. He's a pretty good mathematician, but it's like he lives vicariously through his students — especially us." He waved towards an empty desk, turned towards him and Brittany. "Sit down." Dave did so; Kurt followed suit in a chair behind him. "So you got any of your current work?"

"Yeah. Here." Dave handed them both copies of his projects, made at Schuester's request. It was remarkable to think about how hidden and secretive Dave had been about this work, and now, he was handing them out like they were class notes.

Artie flipped rapidly through the stapled papers, his eyebrows inching higher with each. "Wow. Okay, you definitely belong here."

"I'd love to talk with you about this one sometime," Brittany said in a hushed voice, tapping her finger on one of the pages. "I've always loved the Hadwiger conjecture." She smiled at Dave; something about it sent waves of what couldn't have been jealousy through Kurt.

"Later," Artie said crisply. "Right now, we're knee deep."

"In what?" It was Kurt who asked, not Dave, out of pure impulse and curiosity.

"In fixing Prof. Schuester's mess." He nodded towards the papers that the two had been going over before. "Or more accurately, our mess. We're co-authors on a paper he's presenting in a few months on ur-elements. Problem is, he found a flaw in it last summer. Our job is to figure out a way to fix it before the conference."

Somehow, this didn't surprise Kurt in the slightest. Dave picked up the papers and read through them for a few minutes. "Huh. Okay, I think I get it. I can see why you guys missed it, though; it's kinda subtle."

"We're pretty sure the basics are sound," Brittany said. "Artie and I think we have the right approach to make it work, but we're not there yet. We've been trying to figure it out for weeks."

"Yeah, it's kind of tricky, for obvious reasons."

 _Obvious?_ Kurt thought. Looking over Dave's shoulder, not a word of what he glimpsed made any sense at all. Dave merely nodded, then started a conversation that, even though it didn't actually go this way at all, sounded to Kurt's ears exactly like this:

 **Dave** : So if you blah blah the blah, and adjust the blah blah blahs, you think you can blah blahs?

 **Artie** : Right, exactly. The problem is the blahs. The damn blahs won't blah the way we want.

 **Brittany** : And when we bring the blah blah blahs into it, that just causes a whole bunch of other problems.

 **Dave** : Yeah, I see that... What if we blah the blah blahs, and try blah?

 **Brittany** : But won't the blahs contradict the blah?

 **Artie** : Wait a second, he might be on to something. We could blah the blah blah blah blah blah, and so it follows...

 **Brittany** : The blahs blah! That's perfect!

 **Dave** : Not quite. There's still the blah to deal with. Maybe if we blah blah blah...

And so on and so forth, for what seemed like forever. But even if Kurt couldn't understand anything any of them said, he was still fascinated — not over the conversation itself, but what it was doing to Dave. If Dave had become animated talking about math to him, back when all this started, it was _nothing_ compared to now. It was like he was watching a flower, long buried under winter snow, come to life in the spring sun. Dave was writing down numbers, bantering back and forth with both Artie and Brittany, and he was _smiling_ all the while — not the douchey falsehood of his frat boy persona, but so warm and genuine that it made Kurt's heart ache a little just seeing it.

Just like Rachel and Blaine were Kurt's people, Artie and Brittany were Dave's. He was in his element, among peers who understood him.

He was home. He finally found home.

Kurt only left when his stomach started demanding food, and the nerd trio showed no sign of stopping, or even slowing down. It was a bittersweet moment when he slipped out without Dave being the slightest bit conscious of it.

When the two met face-to-face next, it was a full week later. "You don't call, you don't write..." Kurt griped, though lightheartedly. He'd mostly expected such a disappearance; Dave was, after all, diving headfirst into a world he'd yearned for for years.

"I know, I know! But you're the first person I've talked to in days not named Artie, Brittany, or Schuester." Indeed, he looked like he hadn't shaved in two days, or slept more than a few hours in at least that long. But his eyes, though a little bleary, were bright and shining, and he moved and spoke as if hopped up on caffeine, although Kurt was certain that there wasn't a speck of it in his system.

Dave was, to use a cliche, merely high on life.

"So how is the world of high level mathematics?" The two arranged to get together at the same Italian place where they'd eaten after laser tag; Dave was bolting down his rigatoni in between gushes of sentences.

"It's unbelievable, man! I'm doing something I'm good at, something I _love_ , every single day! The others, they have these great ideas too, and... I honestly never thought life could be like this. I could kick myself for not doing this sooner." He sounded in awe. "Artie and Brittany, man, they _get_ me like nobody else ever has. Well... _almost_ nobody..."

Kurt hid a smile under his hand. "So how's the repair project going?"

"Oh, yeah, that's the big reason why I haven't been in touch. We've been bouncing ideas off each other, and I think we've got a way to get the paper into publishable shape."

"Great! So you're almost done?"

"Not even close!" Dave said cheerfully. "Knowing what to do isn't the same as knowing how. But at least we've got a road map. The problem is..." The smile shattered from his face.

Kurt found his heart beating faster. "The problem is...?"

Dave sighed. "I'm kinda leaving Ohio for a few months."

"What?!" Kurt almost jumped to his feet, but somehow managed to keep his butt in his chair by a miracle. "What about staying at OSU?"

"I am, but it turns out that Prof. Schuester had his special group signed up for this summer math thing with several other schools across the country. It's being held at USC..."

"Southern California or South Carolina?"

"Southern California," Dave said with a grin. "And he wants me to join Artie and Brittany. That way, we can share our ideas with other mathematicians, take some real specialized courses, and be able to work on his paper all at the same time. Don't ask me how he swung my invite only a couple of weeks out, because I have no fucking clue." Dave's hands worried at each other. "I said yes. I'm leaving in two weeks, right after my last exam."

"Two...?" No, that was too fast, that was much too fast... "That was the right decision, Dave. I'm really happy for you." Kurt was almost surprised to find that he meant it. "And at least we have the Internet..."

"Yeah, but..." Emotions flashed across Dave's face, there and gone so quickly that it was almost dizzying. "I think I might not be very good at keeping in touch. At least not all the time."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Dave was playing with his napkin, but with fists clenched so tight he wasn't so much "playing with" as "ripping apart." "For one thing, I kinda need to start making decisions on my own, and if you're always right there, I'm gonna be tempted as fuck to just ask you advice all the time. For another..." He ducked his head; his next words were muffled, but still audible. "... I have a lot of work to do this summer, and you're kinda the biggest distraction I have in my life."

It took Kurt a little while to process what he'd just heard; it took him mustering everything he knew and thought about Dave to get a reasonable-sounding interpretation. When he did, a huge smile blossomed over his face. "Oh, really?" he said slyly.

"Yeah," Dave rumbled, his neck turning red. "I'd be stuck to my phone all the time, always tempted to talk to you. I'd be missing you constantly, and..." He huffed. "I know this is the completely wrong time to talk about this when I'm about to leave for months, but... You know how I feel about you, right?"

"Tell me," Kurt said softly.

Dave reached out, his fingers barely caressing Kurt's cheek, before he remembered he was in public and dropped his hand. "I can't do this," he whispered. "Not right now. The next two weeks are already gonna be full of me getting ready for the trip and figuring out a way to tell my parents, and... There's just not enough _time_."

"I know. There's so much to do, so much to talk about..."

"And it doesn't feel right to do something this important online, either. But I swear to God, Kurt, we _will_ talk about it. I promise. I'm gonna be thinking about you this entire trip, whether I want to or not."

"I hope you lean more towards the 'want to' side." Kurt tried to infuse as much jocularity as he could into his words, but he could hear himself fail.

"But until I come back, can we... can we still be friends? At least until I... until _we_ figure things out, and my life gets a little more stable?"

"For a genius, you ask stupid questions. Of course we can. Wasn't I the one who suggested this already? I think the trip is the perfect time to get some distance and calm to think things through."

Dave nodded gratefully. "There's another thing I promise I'll do."

"Oh? What?" But all Kurt got in return was a shit-eating grin.

"When I come back. But you'll find out. Then."

"You know, I'm not so sure I like this new, more confident you anymore. You're getting entirely too sassy for your own good."

Dave laughed, shaking his head. "God, I'm going to miss you." The levity evaporated; it seemed they could both feel how little of a joke it was.

"I'm going to miss you too."

That would be the last time Kurt and Dave met in person. The next two weeks were already a blur for Kurt as he prepared for exams and performances and reviews; he could only imagine what they were like for Dave, struggling to balance the last vestiges of his old life and his burgeoning new one. Bare hours after the last finals were over, Dave sent Kurt a photo of a United plane with the caption, "off to socal i'll see you soon."

Finn had to hold him for almost an hour before the tears stopped.

Over the next days, weeks, and months, Dave sent updates on Southern California and his math activities. They came sporadically at best, as Dave had predicted, but they came nonetheless. They managed to hold a semblance of a conversation, even with days separating query and reply, but it was enough.

It had to be enough.

Kurt only got bits and pieces of what was happening, but when he stepped back and looked at the big picture, there was one undeniable truth to come out of it all: Dave was happy. He was, finally, the same Dave Karofsky on the outside that he was on the inside. The terrors of responsibility, the burden of genius, once shared even in a small way, loosened their grip on him. Once he found others like him to further share with, his fears withered even further.

Once Dave kept his eyes on the ground, afraid of what would happen if he were to soar. But now... he was free. No matter what happened now, no matter what hardships it caused (like, say, the pain of separation from someone who was a dear friend, and perhaps something slightly more), that alone was worth everything.

Eventually, the ache in Kurt's soul also eased, and life began going on. Dave's intermittent contact became something precious, always a high point to his summer days. A new normal had settled in for him as well as for Dave.

Then came that text...

* * *

 **The Present  
**

Kurt had never attended an event at the Greater Columbus Convention Center, so he knew very little about its layout. That was why he arrived at 9 am. As promised in a follow-up text, there was a badge waiting for him.

He wandered about, passing grey haired ladies and balding gentlemen in suits, all the very image of the stereotypical academic. Still no sign of Dave — not at the room the presentation was going to take place in, not in any of the lounges. He supposed he could've texted Dave and asked, but damn his stubborn, independent streak.

Kurt was just about to make his second complete circuit of the center and refine his vision of how to kill Dave if he'd decided to wait until the last minute to show up when (a non-existent) God intervened.

Once upon a time, so many months ago it might as well have been years, Kurt saw Dave sloppily dressed in a suit. Now Dave emerged from a crowd wearing a suit, only this one was much neater, much better fitted, much more put together, and much more flattering — so much so that Kurt almost forgot to drool in the middle of his approving critique of the creases and cuffs and rich red necktie.

They were across a vast room from each other, with scores of oblivious convention-goers passing between them, but somehow, their eyes still locked. Kurt felt detached from reality, almost ethereal, as the two slowly approached each other. Finally, after months apart, they were face to face once more. Dave hadn't physically changed much — who would in such a relatively short amount of time? — but his skin was noticeably bronzed, and his eyes sparkled with life and joy and everything that had been kept from him by his own fears, everything Kurt had always hoped he'd find. They said nothing for a long moment, merely staring at each other, until one of them finally broke silence.

"You're early," was all Dave said.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, Dave? _That_ _'s_ what you open with?"

Dave's mouth opened, then shut. "Could we... could we find somewhere more private to talk?"

They found one in an out-of-the-way back hall. Only the hum of air conditioning surrounded them now. Dave cleared his throat, then cleared it again. Kurt sighed inwardly; it looked like he'd have to take the initiative — again. "Hi, Dave. I'm glad you're back."

Some kind of spell must've been broken, because Dave almost visibly started before saying, "Th-thanks." Another silence. "You, uh... you look good."

"Thanks. You too." His fingers brushed against the lapel of Dave's jacket; he'd meant the gesture to be approving of the quality and material of the suit, but somehow it became more... intimate. "And yes," he said, dropping his hand back to his side before he did something they'd both regret, "I'm early. Surely you didn't think I'd just wait for you?"

"You already did," Dave noted quietly. "Four months."

"Well, I'd rather not have, but I did." Kurt had to consciously tell his feet not to shuffle against the carpet. "You didn't tell me you were done with the summer session."

"Yeah, well, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. So... surprise?"

Kurt snorted; he could almost feel tension leaving his body. "I assume there's a reason why you didn't invite Finn too."

Dave exhaled. "Yeah. I mean, I'll catch up with him later. But this was something I wanted to share with you, and just you. For a few reasons. First is, you're the reason I'm here to begin with."

Kurt shook his head. "You got here on your own merits. I think you would've gotten here yourself eventually. Talent like yours can't hide forever."

"Maybe. The second reason is, my parents are here. And I could sorta use a friend around."

"I see. And how are things going with them?"

"I... kinda don't want to think about it right now. Later."

"All right," Kurt said. "So what's the third reason?"

Dave hesitated before answering. "It's that promise I made."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Promise?"

"Yeah. Before I left. I swore I'd do something when I came back."

Kurt didn't quite remember that, but took him at his word. "All right... So what is it?" He nearly choked on his own spit as Dave reached out and gathered him in his arms.

Dave's eyes were locked on his, wide and intense, his face suddenly so close that Kurt could feel his breath on his nose. His hands were gently placed on Kurt's waist and shoulder. "Only if you want to," he said in a low growl. Kurt could only trust himself to nod, so hard that he felt his brain slosh around in his skull. But he lifted his face towards Dave's anyway, just in case.

That moment when their lips met reminded Kurt of when their hands brushed at the Italian place — only a million times more intense. Their tongues stayed in their own mouths — it felt too soon for that — but nevertheless, the heat of even this contact threatened to set Kurt's skin on fire. Kurt had had a few kisses before, fond and affectionate at the very least, but this... Those past kisses were sad, pale imitations compared to this. God, how had he not known they could be like this? How had he missed out all these years?

When they finally separated, it was with great reluctance on both their parts; they knew instinctively they couldn't stay that way forever, however much they wanted to. "I missed you," Dave said hoarsely. "I missed you so goddamn much..."

"I did too," Kurt admitted, trying to will himself not to cry.

"I've been thinking about you a lot these past few months. A _lot_. After a while, it kinda sank in that just the fact I was thinking about you so much answered all the questions I had." His hands tightened on Kurt's side and shoulder. "I don't know what this is gonna become, but I do know I care about you a whole fucking lot, and I want to try. I want to be yours... if you want me."

Kurt pecked Dave on the lips. "My God, quit assuming the worst when it comes to me. If this is some form of lingering self-deprecation, I hate it already. In fact, I..." He caught his breath before he was able to speak again. "I was a little worried. That you were having so much fun with your new life that you didn't have room in it for me anymore..."

Dave groaned. "Who's being self-deprecating now? Fuck, Kurt, this is exactly what I was afraid would happen all these years if people found out I was a genius. I'm not any better than anyone else — just smarter. And I may not _need_ you anymore, but you don't _need_ me either. And that doesn't even matter, because you taught me how to go after what I want, and you're one of them. I _want_ you in my life — as a friend, at least, but I'd kind of prefer..." He turned away a little from Kurt, a tear forming in his eye, but he managed to turn back by what seemed to be physical force of will. "I want to prove to you that I can make your life better, the same way you made mine better. I really want that chance."

"Well..." Kurt said, mock indecision in his voice. This time, his caress of Dave's lapel was _very_ deliberate, as was the similar one on the back of his neck. "We'll have to spend a _lot_ of time together, now and in the future. You have to fill in all the details you didn't tell me about what you were up to in Los Angeles, and you have to go see Finn; he'll kill us both if he found out we met and didn't get him involved. So we'll have plenty of time to let things..." He didn't even bother to wipe the smile off his face or the wetness off his cheek. "... Run their natural course."

"I'd like that," Dave said, choked. "I'd like that a lot."

When their lips met again, it somehow felt different to Kurt — comforting, like the feel of Dave's arms around him. Like the start of something good.

It took an alarm on Dave's phone, which went off God knew how long later, for him to remember that he sort of had a presentation to attend. Kurt managed to wangle a front row seat. Prof. Schuester was the one who did all the talking, and the Powerpoint presentation was unsurprisingly arcane, but being just feet away from Dave, in front of an audience of his peers, nearly beaming with pride, was more than enough to keep Kurt engaged.

Schuester actually let his three students answer questions from the audience afterward. Dave handled his with confidence and aplomb, as if he were born for the role. Kurt had no idea of the accuracy or incisiveness of his answers, but the approving nods from the people around him seemed to indicate good things.

The best part of this, all of this, was this was only the first step for Dave — the first step towards his future in math, the first step towards the recognition and accolades he'd always deserved, the first step towards achieving his potential and finding a career doing something he loved...

The first step towards something lasting with Kurt. He found himself tingling with anticipation for them both.

When the room burst out in warm applause at the conclusion of the presentation, Dave sheepishly smiled and waved. Kurt immediately jumped onto the stage as the audience began departing, having to squeeze past Artie's wheelchair to get to Dave. This time, it was Kurt who swept up Dave in a hug. It was only when Dave gave him almost painful bro-type claps on the back that he remembered that Dave was still mostly in the closet.

Oh, well, one thing at a time.


End file.
